Vengeance
by Pseudonymos
Summary: Quinn is a vigilante who is recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D to help the Avengers kill monsters called demons, who suck out your soul and devour you. What seems like a simple series of attacks is unearthed to be much more, with Quinn tied to the heart of it all. But nothing can stop her from killing her father and making him pay. She will get her vengeance, even if she dies in the process.
1. Vengeance

[Quinn]

I ran through the twisting hallways that I thought I once felt safe in, my pounding footsteps matching the heavy thrumming of my heart. I knew that they were behind me, chasing me. He wouldn't let me get away that easily. I turned a corner to be met by angry shouts. I darted down another corridor, the cries of "I see her!" becoming fainter as I ran. I ignored the blood streaming from my wrists and the gash on my head, only having time to focus on one thing. Escaping.

Finally, I saw the large oak doors that would lead me out onto the driveway, where I would cut though the thin layer of woods that surrounded the house then escape into the city. From there I would trust the darkness to cover my tracks and shroud me until I found a place to hide. What I would do next, I didn't know.

I burst through the doors, gasping the cold night air. The first time I had breathed fresh air for nearly a year. Tattered clothes hung off of my painfully thin and weak frame, the bitter cold biting my skin. The dark blood covering my body starkly contrasted with my paper white complexion.

As I entered the woods, something like a half relieved, half hysterical laugh bubbled from my chest as I realized I was free. It was soon smothered as pain and grief overtook my mind. Echoes of her strangled screams, pleading for me to stop them from hurting her, vibrated in my mind. I could do nothing but watch her be tortured. Images of her blood splattering the floor and her pale, tearstained face flashed behind my eyes.

I didn't stop running until I reached the outskirts of the city, where I stumbled into a dark, dank alley. Sinking onto my knees, sobs wracked my body. I couldn't save her. It's my fault._ It's all my fault._

My fault that she's dead.

I now felt empty, the void engulfing my body with every sob, every tear that fell onto the cracked asphalt. There was something else though, slowly growing and swelling as I layed there, the rough pavement biting into my palms.

Soon, my sobbing stopped, but warm tears still trickled down my face. The burning inside of me filled a small part of the emptiness that now consumed my body, and I realized what I had to do. What I needed.

_ Vengeance_. They were going to pay.


	2. Chapter 1

[A/N] This is my first Avengers fan fiction! I originally started writing this story on Wattpad, but now I'm adding it to because it has an area just for Avengers fan fics. The chapters I write will be posted on Wattpad first, since my main focus will be on Wattpad, but I'll try to post the chapters on here as well as soon as possible. If you like this story please review! Thanks! ~Pseudonymos

[Quinn]

The frigid wind blew in my face, my dark hair whipping around me. The bitter cold cut through my leather jacket and dark gray hoodie, making me numb. Numb. If only I could feel like this all the time, or rather, not feel. Anything but the emptiness that threatened to swallow me, drag me deep inside myself.

I stood on a rooftop overlooking the city, fog swirling in the inky sky. I subconsciously gripped the handle of my dagger, the weight somehow feeling reassuring as I twisted it in my palm. I sighed, a cloud of mist rising from my breath. I would have to come back later, after work.

I pulled my jacket and hoodie off, leaving me in the white blouse and small black vest I wore for work. I slipped one of my daggers into the thin elastic belt I wore above the waistband of my pants, making sure it was fully sheathed and none of the metal was touching my skin. I tucked my blouse over it and into my high-waisted shorts, hiding the weapon. I put my other dagger that was identical to the first in a similar sheath, this one around my ankle, inside of my black combat boot. I pulled my leather jacket back on and stuffed my hoodie in a bag that was full of other clothes I would change into after work. Adding the final touch, I put on the dark-rimmed glasses that made my eyes appear murky brown and ordinary instead of the striking silvery gray they actually were.

Swiftly climbing down the side of the building using a rusted fire escape, I stepped into a dark side street and made my way down the cracked sidewalk, being careful to avoid stepping in the dim halos of light illuminated from the street lamps. I don't want to get jumped and be late for work, even if I could fight my way out within minutes.

The neon sign of O'Leery's Bar greeted me as I approached, the blinking leprechaun lifting its arm repeatedly, drinking a mug of beer. I entered through the side door for employees, stopping by the bathroom mirror to quickly tie my hair up, as was required. I stepped into the kitchen to sign in, then behind the bar to see which area I was working tonight. Waitresses like me, all dressed in a white blouse, black vest, high shorts, and fishnet tights, (with varying levels of skin showing through their uniforms), scurried around the pub, serving drinks or taking orders.

Rob, the owner, barked at me from across the room where he was sitting behind the bar, smoking a cigarette.

"Alexis! You're wiping the tables tonight!"

Sighing, I grabbed the tattered rag that was used to "clean" the filthy tables that never looked remotely decent, and swabbed the wooden tabletops. I flicked aside the numerous cigarette butts, whoever sweeps the floor later will get them.

The bar was always filled with a hazy smoke, the dingy lighting making the whole room seem dim. The TV droned on in the background, set on the news. There were only about ten or fifteen customers in the bar, the usual for a Wednesday night. Most of the customers were wearing unbuttoned work shirts, ties loose and hanging off their necks, presumably just having gotten off of their job for the day.

I moved on to the next table, keeping my eyes down to try and avoid conversation with the waitress, Jade, who was clearing the table from empty glasses and bottles. Jade was, as eloquently as I can put it, more on the slutty side. Her nearly transparent blouse was buttoned about two thirds up, exposing her bright red bra. She wore shorts so low and small I don't think that they could be considered shorts, her tall heels clicking and platinum blonde hair swishing as she walked. It wasn't just her I didn't talk to, I try to avoid everyone as much as possible. It's safer that way.

Jade gestured at the TV. "I remember when that happened. It was such a, like, shocker. Crazy stuff right?"

I glanced up at the screen, and instantly froze. The newscaster was sitting at a desk, images playing beside him as he spoke.

"Today marks the two year anniversary of the tragic deaths of the prestigious Corvus Vermont's wife and two daughters. Camila Vermont was driving her daughters, Sophia and Talia, to a hotel where they planned to spend the night during a small family retreat. Corvus Vermont was planning on meeting them there later that night, but disaster struck. The car that Mrs. Vermont was driving slid on a patch of ice, skidded over the guard rail, and plummeted down a steep hill into a ditch, killing them all. The tragic loss of his entire family devastated Vermont. Since then he has proposed new road safety requirements for our city. Fycon City has benefited greatly from these laws in the past two years."

He paused for a second, then continued. "Shown here are pictures of the daughters, taken a few months before their untimely deaths. Sophia, on the left, was only five years of age. Talia, on the right, had recently turned sixteen."

The newscaster's voice trailed off as I stared at the pictures. Sophia's golden curls cascaded down her shoulders, her pleated dress matching her blue eyes. Quickly, my eyes focused on Talia. Her short red hair, gray eyes, white gown, arms wrapped around her little sister. My breath hitched in my throat as I stood there, unmoving. It felt as if I was slowly being suffocated from the inside out.

Jade's voice snapped me from my thoughts. "Hey, are you OK?" Giving her a stiff nod, I stalked to the next table, swabbing it furiously.

After my shift ended I quickly left the bar, gasping the fresh air as I stepped outside. The picture of Sophia and Talia Vermont was burned into my mind as I walked down the street. Jade's words echoed in my memory as I walked, asking if I was okay.

No, I am not okay. Anything but okay. _That girl, Talia, was me._


	3. Chapter 2

[Quinn]

The next night when I got to work, I was told that I had waitress duty. Grumbling, I tied on one of the pocketed aprons and grabbed a notepad to write down orders on.

Tonight O'Leery's Bar wasn't very busy. There were a few customers here and there; most of them were sitting at the bar watching a football game. I was one of the three waitresses working tonight. I only knew one of the other two, a brunette named Taylor. As far as I could tell she was an OK person, but it wasn't like I had ever talked to her. I like to keep to myself.

The girl I didn't know was behind the bar cleaning glasses and Taylor was at the bar taking drink orders. I guess that leaves me the tables. I took one man's order who looked to be immersed in the game on TV. After bringing him his whiskey, I saw that the only table that hadn't been waited was the one in the far corner. Three men sat at the table. Their posture was hunched forward, as if they were discussing something private. If this was a drug deal or a black market dealing, I may deal with it later. I hoped they were discussing something about the League so I could get some information.

The League is a corrupt group that pretty much has control over Fycon City. About half of the city is involved in it. Cops, drug dealers, street fighters, business men, everyday store owners, politicians. The head of the League is Corvus Vermont, a city councilman, and my father. I refuse to think of him as my father, not after what he's done. Ever since I escaped, I vowed that I would kill Corvus Vermont and tear down the League with him. Even if I die in the process.

I made my way over to the table, notepad in hand. The men quickly noticed me walking over and their conversation came to an abrupt stop. One of them with dark brown hair and a closely shaved beard leaned back in his chair, no doubt trying to look less suspicious. To the right of him sat a man with short brown hair and a piercing gaze, his eyes carefully evaluating me as I strolled over. Behind his relaxed stature was the sense that he was always alert of his surroundings. The third man was tall with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He wore a plaid shirt and a leather jacket. None of the men seemed like they were involved in the League. I could usually tell after a moment or two, but none of these guys fit the description. All of them seemed like they would do well in a fight though, considering their muscular build. I would still have to be on guard around them.

"May I take your order?" I asked, my face expressionless. I made sure I didn't make eye contact with any of them.

"I'll have a scotch," the one with the beard said; a slight smirk playing on his lips gave him a cocky air. I quickly scribbled down the order then turned to the other two who both gave a shake of their heads.

As I walked away, I heard the guy with the beard yell, "Make it snappy!"

_Oh, I'll make it snappy, alright. Maybe I'll also spit in your drink for fun._ As I was standing behind the bar getting ready to pour the drink, I saw the lights faintly flicker. I froze and looked out the window, my eyes scanning the dark street. _One was out there, I knew it. _Thankfully only I had noticed.

I returned to the table with the three men sitting at it and placed the glass on the table. Out of the corner of my eye I kept a watch outside, scanning for one of them.

After taking a sip of his scotch, the bearded man gave a slight cough and then looked up at me, eyebrow raised.

"I ordered scotch, this is bourbon," he stated. _Sorry buddy, but I have other things on my mind right now._

"I guess when I made it snappy I also made a mistake." I then turned and walked away. I heard the quiet chuckling of his companions behind me and the man's muttering.

"Taylor, take out the trash!" I heard Rob yell from his usual seat at the bar, gaze fixated on the TV screen. After Taylor picked up a black bag filled with garbage in each hand, she started towards the back door. _Oh no, bad idea._ I ran up to her as she was standing by the door.

"Here, I'll take it for you." I offered. She let out a breath and visibly relaxed, relieved she didn't have to go out.

"Thanks." she said with a grateful smile. I took the trash from her and walked outside. I made sure the door closed behind me. There weren't any lights back here but the full moon was out, casting long shadows around every corner.

I was on full alert, scanning the alleyway for any signs of movement. They stuck to the darkness, but if they were hungry enough they would venture into dim lighting to find some prey. I shuddered, then quickly lifted the top of the trash can and dumped the garbage bags into it. I winced when the top of the can made a loud metallic clang as I put it back on.

_Wait, what was that?_ I heard ragged breathing from behind me, far away enough for me to not have noticed right away, but close enough to faintly feel its cold breath caressing the back of my neck. Goosebumps rose on my skin and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. If I could carefully pull out the dagger above my waist, I could kill it before it even moved.

A high-pitched shriek cut through the night, making my breath catch in my throat. Quickly, I dove to the side just in time to see the demon lunge at me. It missed and crashed into the trashcans, sending them tumbling to the pavement with a loud bang. Making an inhuman growling noise, the demon turned to face me. Its razor sharp teeth and claws glinted in the moonlight, and I saw that its wide mouth was ringed in blood. I pulled my daggers out and crouched, ready. The creature's leathery wings expanded and it came at me again, screaming. Its rotting breath hit my face as I swiftly stabbed it in its heart. The demon gave a last cry of agony before it disintegrated into ash at my feet.

I wiped the thick, black blood off of my knives with a random piece of paper in the alley before stashing them away again. I made my way to the door then gripped the door handle. Before I went back inside, I plastered a terrified expression on my face. I swung the door open, immediately noticing the tense and quiet atmosphere. Everyone's attention snapped to me as I walked into the room. Taylor ran to me and engulfed me into a hug, sobbing. I tensed at the sudden contact, but didn't push her away so I could keep my scared act up.

"W-we thought you were dead!" she wailed, mascara running down her cheeks. As she pulled away I saw Rob standing there, mouth agape and cigarette forgotten.

"How did you survive a demon attack? You should be dead!"

_Gee, thanks. Well, I'm actually an anonymous vigilante who is the only person who can actually kill those things. _I would've said that, but seeing as I want to keep my real identity a secret, it probably isn't wise to tell that to a bar full of people.

Taylor gasped. "It was the Phantom, wasn't it? He saved you!" I nodded, and she gasped again.

I glanced at the clock. My shift ended five minutes ago. I went to the back and grabbed my jacket and my things, then made my way towards the door. As I walked, I noticed that the three men I had served earlier were deep in conversation. They all nodded then walked out the door, unnoticed by anyone but me.

"Wh-where are you going? You can't go out there, there may be another one!" Rob sputtered, his wild and terrified eyes trained on me.

"My shift ended, I'm going home." Faking as if I had tears in my eyes, I swung the door open and walked out.

"You can take tomorrow off!" Rob called from behind me. Tomorrow was my day off, but I didn't argue. Right now, I have three people to follow.


	4. Chapter 3

[Quinn]

I followed the group of men down the street, sticking to dark corners and back alleys. Not only did I have to follow the men without being seen, I was also aware of my surroundings in case I ran into a demon. That wouldn't be a dead giveaway that I was there.

Ahead of me, the men stopped under a streetlight, their figures illuminated by the dim ring of light. I could faintly hear their conversation.

"We should split up. Clint, stay on the rooftops and keep an eye on the alleys. Stark, you keep watch from the sky. I'll stay on the streets. If you have the location of the Phantom or run into trouble, keep in touch with our communicators." The blond one said.

Wait, they were looking for me? This instantly set me on alert and I strained to catch all of their conversation.

"Why do you always get to call the shots, Cap?" The man with the beard complained. As the man he called 'Cap' was speaking, he had pulled a small metal cube from his pocket. Now, he pressed a button and it suddenly whirred to life, clicking as it grew and pressed itself to the man's body, creating a sort of metal suit. A helmet flipped over his face and a second later the front opened up so he could talk more easily.

"Do you have any other ideas, Tony?" Cap replied.

Tony, as in Tony Stark? I think I've heard of him before; I believe he's super rich and owns his own business. There may have been a mention of his name on TV sometime, but I can't remember.

"Of course I have ideas. I am a genius, after all." His palms and feet lit up, matching the glowing circle in the center of his suit. His helmet flipped down and he flew into the sky, no doubt a result of his suit.

Clint, who was the man wearing all black, and Cap walked further down the street. I crept behind them, curious as to where they were going and why they wanted to find me.

They stopped in a dark side street and pulled a black duffel bag out from behind a pile of old boxes. Clint kneeled down and pulled out a quiver of arrows and a bow, slinging both over his back. I eyed them warily as he pulled something else out. A large metal disc glinted in the moonlight, displaying its red, white, and blue rings with a star in the center. A second later I realized it was a shield.

"Here, Rogers." Clint handed the shield to his partner, who nodded in thanks.

Rogers, it sounded like a last name. Cap was probably his nickname.

"Be careful out there, Barton. Don't want to run into one of those... things." With that, Clint climbed up a rickety set of stairs on the side of a building, and Rogers turned and started walking out of the alley, towards me.

I quickly spread my wings, feeling them expand from in between my shoulder blades. The dark feathers softly glinted in the moonlight. Silently, I flew on top of the closest building and crouched, trusting the shadows to hide me. I watched as he walked out and down the street, going in the opposite direction of where I was. My eyes searched the darkness for Clint Barton (which I assumed was his full name) and saw him on the edge of an apartment building close to where I was. On further inspection I saw that his back was turned to me; he was standing at attention with an arrow notched in his bow.

If they're looking for me, I'm not going to simply hide and wait to be found. I'm going to give them a hunt. I need to go in front of him into his line of view so I can go to the roof where I stashed the rest of my clothes, but I don't want to be seen. Not yet.

I picked up a rusty nail that was lying on the roof, near my hand. Silently, I raised into the air and threw the nail at the metal railing he was leaning against on top of the roof.

_Ping!_

I quickly flew into the air, about thirty feet from the top of his head, and then quickly dove through the night. Thankfully a cloud had just covered the moon, meaning there was less of a chance I would be seen. I smirked as I looked back to see his head snapping from side to side, wondering where that noise came from.

When I got to the rooftop where I had hidden my clothes, I quickly threw on my hoodie under my jacket then zipped them both up, not wanting my work uniform to be seen. I pulled on my black pants over the fishnet tights and shorts I was wearing, then a utility belt where I sheathed my daggers when I was the Phantom. I stuffed my glasses into a pocket inside of my jacket, then let my hair down, the loose ringlets covering my face. Pulling my hood up, I was now out of my disguise.

Funny, you would think that when I'm in vigilante mode I would wear a disguise. But the Phantom is the real me, I just don't want anyone to know that I'm the Phantom.

"No, I haven't seen anything yet. It's weird, even though it's one in the morning it's very quiet. I've only seen a few cars here and there."

A voice from above me made me jump. It was the guy in the flying suit, Tony Stark. The front of his helmet was opened up as he floated lazily in the air.

"Maybe we're not using the right strategy. For all we know, we could be scaring him away."

I smirked at the 'him' part. It seemed as if no one had actually considered that the Phantom could be female.

"Marco!" he yelled. His voice echoed through the night. He paused, waiting for a reply.

Did he _really_ just try to play Marco Polo?

"Well, now we know that the Phantom doesn't like to play Marco Polo." He grinned mischievously. "Calm down, Steve. For all we know we could've gotten an answer."

Steve. The corner of my mouth twitched into a small smile as I realized that I knew all of their names.

"What was I supposed to do? I'm getting a bit bored."

Well, I guess I have to make things a bit more interesting. Stealthily, I crept onto the rusted fire escape on the side of the building I was on. I then let out a long, low whistle.

"Wait, did you hear that? It sounded like a whistle."

As he moved towards my direction, I dropped into the alley below. I hid behind a corner and watched him. I wasn't going to escape until I knew what they wanted from me.

I froze. He was getting closer to my position. I scolded myself for my stupidity and my curiosity. For all I knew, these people were in the League and had been sent to find me. Quickly assessing the man standing ten feet away from me, I found all of his weak points, though there were few. I eyed a small chink in his suit behind his knee. If I had to fight him and his helmet was down, I would try to stab him in the back of his knee, through the crack. Five feet away, he suddenly stopped and pressed a hand to his ear.

"Clint, where are you? Wait, you want us to meet in an abandoned warehouse?" His sarcastic tone came out. "You know Cap's scared of the dark." He smirked then agreed. "Ok, maybe he'll come to us." His suit hummed as he took off.

If I wanted to find out why they were here, it was now or never. Giving him about a thirty second head start, I took a deep breath and then rose into the air.

I think I know which warehouse they're in, but it's a small comfort to the uneasy feeling I have swirling inside of me. I hope that when I go in, I'll come out.


	5. Chapter 4

[Steve Rogers- Captain America]

"Dang it." I muttered under my breath. We've been searching for the Phantom for a couple of hours now with no luck. Clint said that he saw... something. He's not sure, but he thinks that someone threw something at the metal bars he was leaning against while he was on the roof. He caught a glimpse of a blur passing over his head, but he doesn't know what it was. Maybe one of those creatures.

I involuntarily shuddered as I thought of those monsters. Their bony frame and black, scaly skin, large, leathery wings, razor sharp claws and teeth, empty eye sockets. They almost look human but more sadistic. They seemingly invaded New York in a single night. In the three days since they appeared, there have been more than thirty attacks, all at night.

Natasha Romanoff (a.k.a. the Black Widow), and Clint Barton (a.k.a. Hawkeye), were sent to investigate. Late at night, they had stationed themselves on a desolate street on the outskirts of the city. They had set up cameras to catch one if they were attacked. In under an hour, three or four of the creatures had surrounded them. The rest of our team, the Avengers, gathered at the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters (a secret group that was made for the sole purpose of protecting the earth, mostly through superheroes) to listen in while Clint and Natasha communicated to us through earpieces. Their weapons only seemed to do minor damage to the monsters, even though they were repeatedly shot and hit with arrows. I still remember their screams of panic when they realized they couldn't kill the things. They barely escaped.

When the pictures came in, we were able to capture the grotesque beings. What scares me the most is that Nick Fury, the leader of S.H.I.E.L.D, didn't recognize them. He knows nothing about them, which means we have no idea how to stop them. The only lead he was able to discover was that this city, Fycon City, has had the same problem as New York, but for a year longer. He found that the only person who knows how to kill the monsters is a vigilante by the name of the Phantom. Fury sent Clint Barton, Tony Stark (a.k.a. Ironman), and I to investigate and find the Phantom. So far, our only problem is that we can't find him.

"Rogers, this is Barton."

"Have you found him?" I asked. This was becoming exhausting.

"No, but I have an idea. We can't find the Phantom because we're using the wrong strategy. We should try letting him come to us."

"Why do you think that will work?"

"I have a feeling that he knows we're looking for him. If I was in his situation, I would wait until everyone looking for me was in the same place to figure out why they wanted me."

I was a bit skeptical, but I was open to any ideas at this point.

"Fine. Where do you want to meet?"

"Right now I'm on the corner of Avenue and Vine; I see what seems to be an abandoned warehouse. If the Phantom likes dark and creepy warehouses as much as he likes dark and creepy alleyways, I think we have a good chance of meeting him."

"Good work. Can you tell Stark, I'm really not in the mood to talk to him because a while ago he annoyed me by singing show tunes. I'm extremely tempted to just block him."

I could nearly hear the smirk in Barton's voice as he answered. "What about the whole 'keep in touch, work as a team' thing, Cap?"

"We both know if he really wanted to talk to me, he could just hack into my communicator."

"Ok," Barton said, "see you soon." With that, I made my way through the dark streets to the abandoned warehouse.

I stood in the warehouse after climbing up a rickety fire escape then through a window so dirty it was nearly opaque. As I looked around the wide, darkened room, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The warehouse was definitely abandoned; broken machines stood in corners, rusting away. The only light came from the windows where the full moon would occasionally peek out from behind a cloud, illuminating the shabby corrugated tin walls and loose chains hanging from the ceiling, swaying and jingling as if moved by an invisible breeze.

I heard a movement above me, and I looked up just as Clint swung down from some metal walkways near the ceiling, moving as swiftly and gracefully as a panther.

"The place is empty, I just checked it out. I don't know what they used to make here, maybe some kind of machinery."

"Where's Stark?" I asked. "He's the fastest one out of us three."

"Right here."

I spun around to see Stark flying in through a shattered window, the small lights on his palms, feet, and chest giving the room a bit more light.

"I checked the air, saw nothing." He landed with a small thump on the dusty floor, then his mask slid up as he studied the room. "This place is a wreck." He kicked an empty tin can across the ground as he walked, looking at the chains hanging from the ceiling. "A bit dilapidated, but with a little work it would be nice for a meth warehouse."

I ignored Stark and turned to Barton. "What do we do now?"

He glanced at me, still surveying the room, and answered. "We wait."

Tony shot Barton a disbelieving look. "We wait for the person who may or may not exist. No one's even seen the Phantom before that remembers him, all they know is that _someone_ saved them! What if the Phantom is just random acts by different people that everyone assumes is done by one person?"

Barton suddenly raised his bow and pointed it into the dark room. "If you need proof, Stark, here it is."

Tony and I turned to see a figure standing in the dim lighting, leaning against a metal support beam that rose to the ceiling. All I could see was the outline of a person with a dark hood on that obscured their face. As Stark turned, the light from his suit lit up the figure only a little bit more, and now I could make out what seemed to be glinting daggers in their hands.

I spoke first. "Are you the Phantom?"

The stranger tilted their head downwards slightly, an almost imperceptible nod. I assumed that was a yes.

"I'm Captain America, and this is Hawkeye and Ironman." As I introduced them, I gave a small gesture to my teammates in turn. "We're with S.H.I.E.L.D, an organization that's main purpose is to protect the Earth. We're part of a team of elite superheroes called the Avengers."

The figure didn't say anything, but I could feel their piercing gaze as they sized us up and evaluated us.

After a moment of silence except for the eerie clinking of the chains above our heads, Stark spoke.

'Well, why don't we shed a bit of light on this tea party; it is quite hard to hold a conversation in the dark." He lifted his arm and a small spotlight shone from it, the sudden and bright light blinding me for a second.

I blinked, and the next thing I knew Stark was against the far wall, his front pressed to the tin and his arms pinned above his head, the concentrated light directing upwards and away from the Phantom. Clint immediately had his bow pointed towards the Phantom and I raised my shield.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" The Phantom hissed. Then the Phantom was gone from our sights, only to reappear noiselessly to another spot in the room, this time by a shambling machine.

I was shocked. The Phantom's voice wasn't anything like I had expected. It was soft, but with a dangerous edge. And it was...feminine.

"You're a woman?" Stark stuttered, surprised. "Well," he continued after turning his light off, "this is unexpected."

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice cold and deadly.

Tony replied, speaking in his characteristic casual style. "We heard you could kill these monster-things. There's a similar problem going on in New York, and we need your help before they kill off the city. Is it true?"

The Phantom stayed silent for a moment, then she said, "Shine your light in that corner over there." She nodded at a dark corner about 30 feet to our right. Tony looked skeptical, but he did as she said.

As soon as the light slid over the corner of the room, an ear-piercing screech cut through the air. Faster than I could react, one of those _things _shot out and toward Tony. Clint released a couple of arrows, but they did nothing. A couple of seconds before the creature attacked Tony, the Phantom, moving so quickly she looked like a black blur, slid in between them. She stood there, unmoving as the monster got closer. Then, in a flash of silver, the Phantom stabbed the monster in the heart then disappeared again. There was a scream, and the creature died in a burst of black smoke.

I glanced over to see Stark's white face and Barton's stiff figure. He was probably remembering the first time he had tried to fight one.

"I'm guessing that's what you have in New York?"

Startled, I spun around to find the Phantom now behind us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Barton nod.

"How did you know that was there, and how did you kill it? And how do you move so quickly?" His voice was icy and his face was set in its usual stone-like appearance.

"I have my ways, and this warehouse is crawling with them. You're lucky you weren't attacked earlier. The real question is, now that you've found me, what do you plan to do with me?"

I could tell that she was uneasy, but her voice didn't show it. It was her air of distrust and caution.

I answered. "We want to recruit you for as long as it takes to stop this. Many people are dying, and you're the only person who knows how to fix what is happening. If you agree, we have a helicopter that will take you to S.H.I.E.L.D's base. We need you."

After a minute of her silence, I began to become nervous. What if she refused? How would we save everyone then?

"Meet me here tomorrow night, at midnight."

"How are we supposed to protect everyone until then?" Stark questioned.

"Tell everyone to lock their doors, cover their windows, and keep all of the lights on. Oh, and don't go out in the dark."

She was stepping backwards, as if she was about to leave. Stark noticed this too, because he said, "Don't forget to pack your bags, sweetheart." I would bet anything I had that she scowled at him, even though we couldn't see it.

Then she was gone, melted into the darkness without a trace.


	6. Chapter 5

[Quinn]

At 11:02, the next night, I was walking down the streets towards O'Leery's, wearing some jeans, a tattered navy hoodie, and my glasses. If I was going to be gone for a few days, I needed to make sure Rob knew I couldn't come to work because I didn't want to lose my job. It was my only source of income, (well, besides the occasional street fight), and it was the only job I could find that didn't take your age or ID. It was a 'as long as you work well there will be no questions asked' kind of job. I opened the dirty glass door and stepped inside of the bar, then made my way through the smoky interior towards the back where Rob always was. He looked up as I stood behind his chair.

"Alexis! What a nice surprise!" He puffed a ring of smoke from his cigarette before continuing. "What are you doing here, I thought I gave you a day off?"

"I'm having some family problems, and I won't be at work for a while. I need some time off," I lied.

Rob gave me a chilling, fake smile, reminding me of a fox trying to negotiate a deal.

"I already gave you a day off, how generous can I get? Besides, I can't lose money. I have to run a business." He took another drag off of his cigarette. "Besides, what kind of family problem is this?"

I knew he would ask questions, to make sure I wasn't lying. Rob may be a careless slob in everything else he does, but when it comes to business and profit, he's actually quite cunning.

"One of my family members is very close to death, any day now, actually. I need to fly to another state to help arrange the funeral, make sure there is a will, that stuff."

His eyes narrowed. "What state will you be going to?"

"Nebraska, where most of my family is from."

"How long will you be gone? If it's over a few days, I can hire someone to take your job. Less of a loss for my profit, you see."

He had me cornered, and he knew it. Now, I had to give him an offer he couldn't refuse.

"Every day that I'm not at work, I'll work a day for you, free. No pay."

One of Rob's friends that was sitting next to him at the bar whistled. "Better take that deal, Rob. This girlie here isn't joking around."

After a second of Rob contemplating my offer, most likely calculating how much more he'll earn, he nodded and gave a small grunt.

"See you then, and don't be afraid to take your time."

With that I left O'Leery's and headed towards my apartment about 5 blocks away. When I say apartment, I don't mean one where there's a lobby where you get a room and pay rent and everything, I mean the abandoned apartment I live in. Since I don't want anyone to know my identity because everyone thinks I'm dead, I found an empty apartment to call home.

A few years ago the first couple of floors caught on fire, and it was left as the owner bought another building to use. It was too much of a hassle to tear down, not to mention the money it would take to do so, so the building was left, a vacated shell. I live on the top floor, where I can see most of the backside of the city. I have furniture and sheets and all that, since the fire burned down the main staircase and the elevator was deemed unfit to use. Everything in the apartment was left like it was, excepting personal belongings of the residents that were retrieved via the fire escape that conveniently led up all the way to my floor. I have everything that I would have in a normal, paid apartment, except for a working phone. Most of the electrical work wasn't damaged in the fire because the main wiring is in the basement, meaning that I can do laundry and watch the news. I assume that the owner of the building forgot to cut off the water and electricity, lucky for me. I always keep the blinds and curtains drawn to not attract suspicion. I mean, what would you think if you saw lights coming from a vacant building?

Instead of using the fire escape, I released my wings and flew to the roof, where I let myself in though the door on the roof which I usually kept locked. Once inside, I changed into my usual outfit that I wore when I was the Phantom and hid everything else that I wasn't taking with me on a shelf high in the closet. Can't be too careful, I can never know if someone could possibly come snooping around. I stuffed my glasses into my duffel bag, which wasn't very full at all. I don't own a large wardrobe; the only things I have are my work clothes, my Phantom stuff, and some T-shirts and jeans that I wear when I'm not the Phantom.

I glanced at the clock. 11:42. I made sure I had my daggers and that they were secured in the sheaths on the belt around my waist. After making sure all the lights were out, I grabbed my duffel and made my way to the roof, then put my hood up. Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, I dove off of the building and flew towards the warehouse.

"12:03. You're late." Tony Stark informed me as I stepped out of the darkness towards the three Avengers. They all wore similar attires to what they had worn last night, except this time Tony Stark wasn't wearing his Ironman ensemble, Hawkeye had his bow which he held loosely at his side, and Captain America's shield was strapped across his back, not in use for now.

"Maybe I was here ten minutes ago, but I just didn't show myself. I'm quite good at that, you know." I retorted.

Stark simply looked amused. "Well, let's get this party started. A helicopter should be here right about...now."

True to his word, the sound of helicopter blades sliced through the night.

"Meet you on the roof?" He asked. I didn't wait to give an answer; I silently left the building and flew to the roof, where a sleek black helicopter now perched.

A few minutes later, all three of the superheroes had joined me. A door on the side of the helicopter slid open, and the blades of the helicopter slowed slightly to allow us to easily jump in.

"After we get on, we'll go to S.H.I.E.L.D's headquarters in New York. There, you'll meet Director Fury." Captain America informed me. I nodded, slightly grateful he had the forethought to tell me.

"Ladies first?" Stark grinned cheekily.

"After you then." I smirked from under my hood as he grumbled then hopped in. I went next, holding my hood with one hand to make sure the gusts of air from the propellers didn't knock it off, and my small black duffel in the other.

I set my bag on the floor as everyone else got in. Clint Barton, Hawkeye, slid in next to me, but thankfully kept his distance and sat on the far end of the bench. The door clicked shut, and my fingers tightened on the seat as my anxiety grew. Small room. Four people. No way out.

I tried to take deep, calming breaths to subside my tiny, creeping panic. My claustrophobia kicked in as I saw my situation. I don't like small, inclosed spaces, it reminds me of the cages...

I involuntarily shuddered as some of my memories began to resurface.

"You ok there?" A voice snapped me out of my reverie as the helicopter lifted off of the roof and into the sky. I didn't know who was piloting, probably some random person.

I glanced up from under my hood to see Steve Rogers studying me, his bright blue eyes alight with concern. I blinked, then turned my head toward the window, watching as we sped away from the dark city.

"Fine." I gritted out. To busy myself, I unsheathed one of my daggers and spun it in my hand, its weight comforting me.

As I stared out the window, my face looked back at me. All you could see of my facial features was my pale lips and part of my nose. My dark hair that fell into soft ringlets was tucked into my hood, out of sight. My pale skin nearly glowed in the dim reflection, making me seem almost ghostly.

"You use daggers?" The question came from my left. I noticed that Clint Barton seemed slightly curious. "How good are you at using them?" I realized this was probably a small ruse to tell them how I fought. I was smart enough to not give them any clues in case it gave me any disadvantages.

"Trust me, you don't want to find out."

"Cocky, aren't we?" Stark wore a slightly amused expression as I turned to face him. I kept my voice flat as I answered him.

"No. Just honest." After a moment of silence, Rogers asked a question.

"What are those things? Where do they come from?" I gathered he was talking about the demons.

I leveled my gaze on him. "They're called demons."

"So, they come from hell or something?" They all leaned in, eager to get any information they could. I stuck to cryptic answers, not wanting to give too much away.

"I wish. That would make everything less complicated."

The three shared uneasy glances, then said nothing more as we rode towards our destination.


	7. Chapter 6

[Quinn]

After what seemed like hours, but in reality was only about 50 minutes, we reached the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. I must say, they kept it pretty well hidden. The vast spread of buildings was located a couple of hours outside of New York City and was highly protected with tall, barbed-wire rimmed stone walls. Guards manned the outside and inside of the wall 24/7, some from watchtowers.

The helicopter gently dropped down on a large landing pad that by the looks of it, held more than a few measly helicopters. I'm talking they could initiate a full out aerial strike.

The door was opened by a few guards wearing black suits and earpieces. They nodded at the Avengers with respect as we climbed out. None of them questioned me as they led us inside. One of the men took my bag, and I was grateful that I had carried everything important on me in case they looked through my stuff. Which I didn't doubt they would do.

We were led down a series of twisting hallways, each with long rows of doors. As we walked, I memorized the directions I would have to turn if I needed to get away. Left, left, right, hallway down the center, staircase on the right.

We went around a corner and the guards stopped at an elevator. Two guards, three superheroes and me. Crap.

One of the guards pressed his hand against a pad on the side of the wall, and it registered his hand print before blinking. We all got on, and I immediately felt constricted. But I wouldn't show them any weakness. I kept still as the elevator rose, my face set in stony determination. If I can just hold off the memories...

Finally, the doors slid open and I calmly stepped off. We were in a tall glass tower in the center of the whole S.H.I.E.L.D compound, giving me a good view of the buildings. The room looked like a type of control room, full of blinking computers and workers in black uniforms rushing about.

When we were all off of the lift, everyone glanced up for a second and stopped what they were doing. Most went straight back to work after that, but some eyed me cautiously, taking in my mysterious aura and the deadly daggers hanging from my waist.

"You must be the Phantom." A tall man strode to stand in front of me, emanating an air of power and importance. A white scar cut across his dark skinned face, over the eye that was covered by a black eye patch. A dark trench coat hung off of his broad shoulders, complete with a gun in a belt on his waist. I immediately knew who this man was. Director Fury.

"Who else would I be?" I asked. I let my fiery attitude out a bit as I replied. I needed to show this man that he wasn't going to intimidate me.

His one good eye swept over my body as he evaluated me. He gave a curt nod at the two guards and immediately they left the room, probably returning to their other duties.

"Follow me." Was all he said before he swept out of the room. The three Avengers stuck close to me while we strode down the hallways, as if expecting me to do something unpredictable.

We followed Fury into a well lit room with wide oak doors, which he closed. In the center of the room was a long, wooden conference table, with a large screen mounted on one of the walls.

An array of people looked up as we walked in, all of them in different places in the room. Clint Barton sat next to a woman at the table wearing a black jumpsuit and who had red hair, making her look fierce. A man wearing a button-up shirt and rectangular glasses sat at the far end of the table, playing with an ink pen. A tall man with shoulder length blond hair, slight beard, intricate armor and a red cape stood gazing out the window. A large hammer hung off of his belt.

How on earth can be pick that thing up? I thought.

Fury gave a nod at the table and said in a commanding tone, "Sit." Everyone obeyed if they weren't already at the table and made themselves comfy. I stayed standing. Stark leaned back in his chair and propped his legs on the table, earning him an eye roll from Fury.

"These," Fury started. "are the Avengers, the most elite group of superheroes on the planet. Thor."

The man wearing the strange armor nodded.

"Agent Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow."

The woman didn't say anything but continued to examine me in a way that told me she was trained and shouldn't be messed with.

"Dr. Banner, otherwise known as the Hulk."

The man wearing the button up shirt gave a small grunt of acknowledgement.

"And of course you've met Ironman, Tony Stark. Captain America, Steve Rogers. And Hawkeye, Agent Barton."

Tony Stark shot me a cocky grin, Steve Rogers gave a small smile, and Hawkeye stayed silent.

"Now, down to business." Fury's gaze drifted to me. "I'm sure you were already told of our situation."

I smoothly sat down in the chair closest to me at the table.

"I'm aware that New York has been invaded by demons, and I'm the only one who knows how to get rid of them."

"Demons?" Fury shot at me.

"Not the type you're thinking about. They don't come from the inner depths of Hell or another dimension or anything. Much different. Before I decide if I should tell you or not, what do you need me for once you know how to kill them?"

He stalked to the other side of the table, faced me, and leaned in.

"There is no 'if you decide to tell us'. You will inform us of all that you know and your sources, is that clear?" His gaze burned into me as his anger rose.

"I will tell you the minimum of what you need to know, nothing more. If I remember correctly, I am the only person who can save your city. When I say the only person, I mean the only person. Do you understand me?"

"Why are you so sure that you're the only person that will help us? There has to be others out there somewhere, the sources you got your information from."

I barked out a laugh, my voice sounding cold and distant.

"Everyone who knows how to stop this is either dead, or the ones behind it."

"If you aren't willing to disclose all you know, I may be forced to use other...methods. Are you familiar with the term torture?" Fury spat. He's trying to intimidate me, I thought. I saw Steve Rogers' face become icy as he glared at Fury.

"Fury, there won't be a need for that." Steve said.

"You're right," I said, acknowledging the heated comment made by Captain America. "Because no matter what you try, you won't get a word out of me with torture. Trust me, I have practice." I hissed.

Fury let out an infuriated growl and strode around the room before quickly pivoting on the spot and turning towards me again.

"Fine." He said through gritted teeth. "Tell me all you can, or will."

"Not until you answer the second part of my question. After I give you information, what are you going to do with me?"

Fury stood there, in thought.

"Until we get this sorted out, you're staying with us as a recruit. If you try to leave, you will be seen as a threat, which isn't good news for you. We could always use your assistance, but it seems like you've been doing good enough by yourself. But you can only do so much, which is where we come in."

I nodded. It made sense. But I wouldn't ask for their help until I desperately needed it. Maybe I could get them to tell me where some people are. I have people I need to make pay for what they did.

"Ok," I sighed, "what do you need to know, as long as you don't question my sources."

"What are they?" Thor asked.

"Broken parts of souls that were detached from their original soul. They don't just kill people; they feed on their souls. If they're hungry enough, they'll also eat the person. They're dark creatures that are always hungry for more since they're so empty; they crave their whole soul but they can't get it back so they make do with other people's, which may feed them for a bit but won't satisfy. Technically, they are part of a person, but they can never be reattached. The person dies instantly once their soul is completely ripped from them. "

"Where do they come from?" Agent Romanoff questioned, giving off an attitude like she was interrogating me.

"They're created. Once they're made, they can make others with the souls they consume, but usually not by themselves."

"You say they're created. How?"

I really didn't want to answer that question in case they dug deeper, but if I didn't it would make them all the more curious. "A machine. It runs on the energy created by the souls and uses that energy to materialize the lost souls into the monsters you see. There are only a few demons that are able to do that though, because it involves them having to hold the energy inside of them until they can get to the machine, which is impossible unless the demon is powerful. They get stronger when they devour souls."

The room was silent as everyone digested that information. Finally, Tony Stark spoke.

"Who is the person behind this, and how do we stop them? Whoever this guy is, he needs to be put into an insane asylum."

"Corvus Vermont." My voice sounded harsh as I said my father's name. No, he's not my father, I reminded myself. He was never a real father to me. "He's the leader of the League, which controls all of Fycon City." At the mention of the League, the superheroes glanced at each other, not knowing what it was.

Fury turned to me. "The League? I heard some rumors about it and researched it. I found nothing; it doesn't exist."

A small smirk slipped onto my lips. "That's because most of the government officials of Fycon City are in it or can't do anything about it for fear of being blackmailed or killed. It's not just the political leaders. Cops. Business men. Teachers. Everyday people. Imagine if all of New York was dominated by a radical group, and you couldn't do anything about it because it consisted of most of the citizens of New York. It's kept very quiet."

Fury sank into a chair, deep in thought. "This is much bigger than I thought it would be. And more complicated." He looked at me. "Are you sure that all of your information is true?"

_Of course, the leader is my father!_ Instead of saying that aloud like I wanted to, I simply nodded and said, "Positive."

Fury pressed a hand to his ear, no doubt wearing an earpiece. "Agent Crowe, can you research Corvus Vermont for me? You too, Agent Hill. Tell me anything and everything you find. That's all." After a moment, Fury stood and turned to me. "Are you going to tell me what your name is?

"It depends on who's asking."

It seemed that everyone caught on to the sly double meaning in my words.

"If you don't answer, I'll have to investigate you. I'm sure you don't want that. I have good resources, I can find out."

"I'm not so sure about that."

He glared at me. "It looks like you're going to be working with us for a while, and it would be best if you gave us your name. Unless you want to be suspected for being a part of the League."

My temper flared. How dare he accuse me of that? The only thing I've done since getting out of that hell hole my father imprisoned me in is work to destroy the League and kill him, get my revenge.

"Quinn." I gritted out, clutching the table angrily as I rose to face him. "And you will never accuse me of working for the League again, do you understand?" The raw fury in my words seemed to reassure him that I wasn't a League member, because he gave a small grunt. I caught Stark giving me an appraising look while everyone else seemed slightly shocked.

"Well then, Quinn, how do you kill the demons?"

I slowly lowered myself back into the seat and pulled out my dagger. "There's only one way to kill a demon, and that's vibranium."

Vibranium is the strongest metal on earth, also the rarest. The machine that my father created is made of vibranium. All of the other metals he tried melted under the pure force of the energy he harvested from the souls. Vibranium has a negative effect on the demons because they were made in it. It is the only thing that can kill them, well, besides a power of my own.

I got my powers through the machine he created to experiment with human souls. He named the invention of his the Irritum Animam, which in Latin means "break soul". Since I got my abilities from the machine, vibranium also has a negative effect on me. It won't kill me instantly, but it is more potent than a regular metal. When I touch it, my skin burns and feels like it's on fire. If I touch vibranium for too long, it can also make my skin at the point of contact blister or bleed, just like with a fire. That's why I'm careful when I use my daggers, which are pure vibranium.

Corvus Vermont conducts dark experiments on humans and animals by splitting their soul and seeing what happens. He experimented on me and ripped part of my soul away. Since humans can't live without a complete soul he replaced it with part of a raven's soul, which gave me my wings, changed my hair from red to black, and made my gray eyes a brilliant silver. It also gave me the ability to use pure energy from my soul to fight.

If I control the energy correctly, I can channel it into my hands where I can throw it and fight with it. It's hard though; the first time I attempted to use it, I lost control. I was on a small island about five miles from Fycon City. Now the island, which used to be wooded, is devoid of trees. My power is too risky to use, but I have to let it out every once in a while or I could explode and release it all at once. The same happens when I'm extremely angry.

I watched as everyone's eyes drifted to Steve Rogers. Sensing my confusion, Steve explained. "My shield is made of vibranium."

I eyed his shield which he now had placed on the table. "Good to know in case I ever try to throw one of my daggers at it for target practice." Tony snickered.

"Vibranium?" Banner questioned, looking interested. I nodded. "Since I assume your daggers are made of vibranium, may I see?"

Warily, I removed one of my daggers from my belt and began to slide it across the table.

"Wait," Tony Stark interjected. All eyes turned to him. "I want to see you throw it, but you better throw it at me, don't want Banner's 'other personality' to come out."

I didn't know what he meant by Banner's 'other personality', but I didn't ask. My eyes, though not seen because of my hood, quickly searched for a spot to throw the dagger. I smirked when I saw that one of Tony's hands was lazily splayed out on the table. In the space of a second, I had picked up and thrown my dagger in an easy, fluid movement. It didn't spin in midair because of its perfect balance and landed with a thunk in the dark wood of the table, perfectly in the space between his fingers.

Tony blinked in surprise for a second before commenting, "Well, that was fast, but I think it could be quicker next time." I rolled my eyes at his teasing and he handed the dagger to Banner, who examined it.

"Where did you get this?" He asked. "Vibranium is the rarest metal on earth."

"I know some people." He didn't press any further, which I was thankful for.

Fury rose from his seat. "At 1:00 this afternoon we'll test your fighting, Quinn. Be ready." He stalked towards the door, then turned back to us. "Rogers, I'm assigning you to keep a watch on the new recruit." His eye drifted towards me. "I'm not a very trusting person, and I still have many unanswered questions." Then he left.

Oh, this is just fantastic. He gives me a babysitter, but it has to be the one person on the team who is the most lethal to me.

There was a tense silence that hung in the air before Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff rose and left the room. On her way to the door, Romanoff gave me a calculating and suspicious look. Soon after, Banner left the room too, giving a small nod towards me, as did Thor before he exited. Stark picked up my dagger which was lying on the table.

"How do you throw this thing, anyway?"

I snorted. "Better not try, you'll probably end up hurting someone."

Giving me a roguish smile he said, "You'll have to teach me." He handed me the dagger, and I slid it back in my belt.

"Yeah, teach you how to dodge knives." I muttered as Stark strolled out of the room. Rogers was waiting for me by the door.

"This way." He said. "Your room is next to mine."

He led me to the elevator, which I grudgingly entered, and Steve pressed the 10th floor button. The elevator began its descent downwards. By looking at the elevator buttons, I could tell that floor 0 was the main control room, and then every level below that was numbered from 1 to 20, 20 being the lowest level, most likely in an underground passageway. I was sure that there were more floors in this building that were kept secret.

"Fury has Avengers posted around the whole building in case of security breaches. Stark is on the top floor, Banner is in another building close to here as is Thor, and Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov are closer to some of the more confidential things."

The elevator came to a halt at floor 6, and the doors slid open as someone stepped in. A tall man with graying hair and a regal appearance entered the elevator with us and pressed Floor 8. A light scar trailed down the side of his cheek.

"Quinn, this is Vincent Crowe, the head of the research department." Steve said.

"Hello, there." Crowe gave a tight lipped smile which looked more like a sneer. At the sound of his voice, I instantly tensed. I've seen this man before, heard his voice. A feeling of deja vu washed over me as I studied the man standing next to me. My hand twitched towards my dagger but I refrained.

Crowe extended his hand for me to shake but I ignored it. _Vincent Crowe, Vincent Crowe. Where have I heard that name before?_ He put his hand down and wiped it on his black suit jacket as the doors opened with a ding. He strolled off and smiled at me, looking like a wolf that has sought out its prey.

"It was nice to meet you." He said in his chilling voice and smirked as if he were making a joke. The doors closed and we continued our descent into the underground layers of the building.

"Something wrong?" Steve asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

"I...there's something not right about Vincent Crowe."

There was a small ding and the doors slid open smoothly.

As we exited the elevator, Rogers sent me a quick glance, thinking. His expression told me that he had the same suspicions as I.

We traipsed down a gray, concrete hallway, mostly devoid of doors, until we came to a set of shiny metal doors which were side by side.

"Your room is on the right. I'll come get you at 12:30 to take you to the training center. Here's your room key." Steve pulled a small, thin, silvery card out of his back pocket. "Use this to get into your room." He looked like he wanted to say something more, then quickly decided against it. "Have a good night."

I slid the cool, metal card into a slot beside the door and it slid open. I stepped inside, my boots meeting plush, cream carpet. A soft cluck told me that the door closed behind me. The walls were a gray blue, and a full size bed sat in the center of the far wall, simple with plain white sheets and bedding. A door led to the left where I guessed a small bathroom was. The room was small but comfortable, perfect for accommodating one.

My duffel bag was placed neatly on the end of the bed. I grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into the bathroom. It consisted of the same color of walls as the bedroom, a small shower, a sink, toilet, and a mirror. I quickly undressed and showered, the hot water streaming over my body but not warming the permanent chill that had settled deep inside of me, in my bones.

I stepped out after lathering my long hair and wrapped myself in a white towel, then proceeded to prepare myself for bed. I quickly got dressed into some dark skinny jeans and a loose, gray T-shirt because I didn't want to bother with having to dress in the morning. After that, I brushed my teeth with a brand-new toothbrush I found in the sink cabinet. After spitting out the foamy toothpaste into the sink, I looked up at the girl in the mirror.

Her dark hair framed her pale skin, making her seem haunting. Dark circles rimmed her piercing silver eyes, and she was thin with slightly hollow cheeks. I turned away from my reflection, scowling. I don't have time to think about my appearance, even if I do look sleep deprived and malnourished. I have other things to focus on, mainly killing the bastard known as my father.

I walked back into the bedroom, picking up my clothes on the way. I placed my Phantom clothes close to the bed so I could get ready quickly if the need arose. I attached my dagger belt under my shirt and made sure both of the daggers were in their places. Sighing, I then slid under the cool white covers after turning the lights off. I stared at the ceiling, mildly wondering what horrors awaited me in my dreams tonight, which dark memories I would be forced to relive. My eyes fluttered closed.


	8. Chapter 7

[Quinn]

_ Drip. Drip. Drip_.

My body wracked with shivers as my back pressed against the cold, damp wall, water seeping through my thin shirt. I feebly attempted to wrap my arms around my torso to conserve body heat, but I knew it was no use. The shackles on my wrists wouldn't allow it; my arms could only move so far before the chain connecting them to the wall would snap them back, the cool metal biting into my delicate skin.

I was chained to a wall, my arms extending to either side of my head. My ankles were also shackled, but the chains were long enough to allow me to sink to my knees on the dirty, concrete floor.

_Drip. Drop._

My eyes traced the cracks in the concrete, searing every little detail of the paper thin crevices into my mind.

_Drip._

The echoes of water falling from somewhere in the room reverberated through my dark, concrete, prison, reminding me of how thirsty I was. I couldn't remember the last time I had something to eat or drink. A few days? Only hours? It was impossible to tell from down here.

Suddenly, the only door in the room swung open, its rusted hinges shrieking in protest. A figure stepped into the room, then flicked a light switch and turned on the only source of light in my room, a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, its wires exposed.

After a few flickers and a soft buzzing, the bulb was illuminated with dull, yellow light. I cringed as spots danced in front of my eyes from the unexpected onslaught of brightness.

I continued to stare blankly at the floor as footsteps came towards me, the sound echoing with every step. Black loafers, shined to perfection, paused in front of me. I didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Rough, calloused fingers tightly gripped my chin and forced me to look into a pair of dark, cruel eyes. I glared at the man in front of me.

He pulled something from his pocket. A syringe, filled with a murky amber liquid. I blanched._ Not again_ I whispered in my mind. My eyes followed the syringe as the point of the needle was positioned on the side of my neck.

"Now, Talia, let's try this again. Last time it only lasted for a few minutes because your mind was able to break away from the effects of the serum. This time, it will last longer and the hallucinations will be more vivid. As will be the pain." I could hear the cruel, sick smile in his voice.

I struggled as he started to jab the needle into my neck.

"Sweet dreams, daughter."

He injected the liquid, and my veins turned to ice, then slowly started burning, on fire. I convulsed as the serum took effect, blurring my vision and muffling all sound. Everything went black and my body became rigid as I fell into the realm of my nightmares and worst horrors.

The last thing I heard was a chilling, savage laugh.

Gasping for air, I shot up in bed. The white sheets were tangled around my legs, preventing much movement. Taking a shaky breath, I dropped my sweaty forehead into my clammy palms, trying to calm down. Once I wasn't on the verge of a panic attack, I glanced at the digital clock beside my bed. 7:00 A.M.

I knew there was no use trying to go back to sleep. I was used to only having a few hours of sleep due to my recurrent nightmares. It was then that I realized how hungry I was. How long has it been since I last ate something, a day?

I put my Phantom clothes on, not including my fingerless gloves. I put those in a pocket inside of my jacket because I would wear those for training. Scowling, I ran a hairbrush through my hair, detangling it. Why do they even bother calling it training when it's actually a test to see how good I am at fighting so they can classify if I'm a threat?

Smirking, I walked to the door and then pulled my hood up. If I'm a threat to them, so be it. I'm not going to give it my all, but I'm certainly not going to hold back. Well, except for my energy, because I don't want to turn into another human experiment.

I stepped into the cool metal hallway. The lighting was a bit dim since the only things that illuminated the hallway were tiny circular bulbs in the ceiling and above each door. I glanced at the bedroom door beside mine that Captain America stayed in. After a few seconds of pausing, I assumed that either he was asleep or out of his room.

I turned and made my way down the hallway. My feet, even though I was wearing combat boots, made no noise as I walked. It's become a habit of mine to always walk with an extremely light tread, it helps when sneaking up on people or going unnoticed.

Since I didn't want to take the elevator, I decided I would try a door beside the elevator that I hoped was a staircase. Twisting the doorknob, I discovered that it indeed led to a set of stairs. I was about to climb up them when I saw shadows creeping around the corner of the stairs, accompanied by the dull, echoing thuds of footsteps.

"Are you sure there is enough security on this level? We still don't know what she could do."

"Yes, sir. We installed another set of cameras further down the hallway so we can see if anyone is snooping around."

The first voice belonged to none other than Vincent Crowe, and it sounded like he was talking to an agent. I didn't know what they were conversing about, but I had a feeling their topic of interest was me.

The footfalls grew louder and the shadows grew as the men approached closer to where I was. Seeing as I had no where to hide, the smart thing to do would be to slip out the way I came. If they saw me, it would raise suspicions. I didn't need a whole team of agents on my tail, watching my every move.

Soundlessly, I crept out the door and shut it as softly as I could, then made my way to the elevator and pressed the up button. The shiny, chrome doors slid open and I stepped on, then they closed just as the two men made their way out of the stairwell, not noticing me.

Not knowing where the mess hall was (because surely they had one- how would they explain to a Chinese food takeout guy why there was a top-secret military compound outside of New York City?) I pushed the button for the main floor and watched as it lit up. A floor or two before I reached my level the elevator stopped. I scowled. Great, I'm going to have company.

Tony Stark, wearing a casual outfit of dark jeans, a light gray-blue T-shirt, and an unbuttoned charcoal blazer, that in all probably cost more than a small car, strolled in.

"Well, looky what we have here! It's Little Miss Dark-and-Depressing! How are you on this wonderful, sparkly morning?"

If looks could kill, this man would've been stabbed, beaten, and hit by a bus multiple times already. Too bad he can't see my expression from under my hood.

"I'm guessing you're going to the mess hall, correct? Floor 1, I'll accompany you."

Since I had already chosen floor 1, the elevator continued to rise. It came to a stop, and I was the first one off, wanting to get out of the small metal deathtrap that always seemed too crowded. Stark showed me to the mess hall, which was a normal cafeteria if you excluded the fact that all of the workers who were eating and chatting wore an earpiece and a gun holster. I walked to the breakfast line and grabbed a random muffin out of the pastries and a water bottle in a station a few feet away, then made my way to an empty table in the back. To my dismay, after gathering his food, Stark smoothly slid into the chair across from me at the table, then propped his legs up.

"So," he paused after chewing on a piece of bacon. "I never got to formally introduce myself. Tony Stark. Playboy, billionaire, philanthropist. Oh, and don't forget genius."

I took a bite out of my muffin, finding that it was blueberry.

"Quinn. Vigilante, dangerous, takes-no-shit. Oh, and don't forget can-kick-your-ass-any-day."

At that moment, Clint Barton slid into the seat next to Stark, a slight smirk on his face, probably having just heard our conversation. I popped the rest of the muffin in my mouth and took a swig of water as Stark chuckled.

"Man, I sure am glad we have someone on the team who actually has a sense of humor." He sent a pointed glance towards Barton. "But I wouldn't be too sure about that last part, sweetheart." His grin grew because he knew I was glaring at him.

As Barton began eating, he sent a quick look at me. "Aren't you going to eat more? You're going to need more than that to get through today's training."

"Not hungry." I answered, my tone clipped. The truth is, I haven't been truly hungry since I was locked in my basement for a year and tortured. After what I've seen, I don't think my appetite will ever come back.

"Well," Stark said, lacing his fingers behind his head, "we have some time to kill before we have to report to training. Want a tour?"

Since I had nothing better to do, I shrugged and gave a small nod. Getting the layout of the compound could actually help me. Standing, I walked behind Stark who had finished his breakfast and was currently patting his mouth with a napkin. A quick glace down told me that only the two back legs of his chair were touching the gray-tiled, linoleum floor as he leaned back in his over confident, cocky manner. I took this chance as I walked by to swiftly hook the tip of my boot around the back of his plastic chair leg, then sharply tug forwards.

Stark started in surprise as his chair tipped backwards, hitting the ground with a loud thunk. The eyes of the agents turned towards us as they surveyed the scene; many looked amused at Stark's current situation, including Barton.

"Be sure about that last part, Stark." I quipped as I stalked out of the room, thinking about our earlier conversation. The scraping of the chair against the linoleum filled the room. In a fluid movement, I deftly turned and caught the water bottle that was aimed for the back of my head, having been thrown by Tony.

"You forgot your water!" He called from behind me.

I threw the half empty bottle into a nearby trash can and waited for Stark. The hallway was bustling with agents and workers. A scientist could be spotted here and there in the crowd, their crisp white coat a speck in the sea of black.

The doors behind me swung open, and Stark sauntered into the hallway.

"Now let's take that tour, shall we?"

"And these are the labs!" Tony Stark announced with a flourish, gesturing to the large, pristine, white room. He had taken me around and had shown me the air hangar where all of the fighter jets, choppers, and stuff of the like were stored, the warehouse where all of the terrain vehicles were kept, the weaponry, the gathering hall where large meetings were held, and many more places within the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound. Trust me when I say they have everything, and then more. Now, he was showing me around the labs, where he and Dr. Banner spend most of their time (even though Tony pointed out he preferred his private lab at home).

Scientists in lab coats scurried about, taking notes on small vials of liquid and examining charts and papers, occasionally sparing us a glance.

"Bruce has his own lab in a separate building not far from here, and that's what I usually use when I'm here for Avenger reasons. Come on, I'll show you. Bruce could use some company, even though he won't show his appreciation to us for coming. He's a bit of a loner, but really he's just a big softie. One that can turn into a giant green thing and rip you to shreds, but nonetheless a softie."

He sounds charming.

We walked outside in the chilly air on a series of concrete walkways until we reached another building. It looked similar to the others with its concrete walls and metal doors, but it was only two stories high and the second story was mostly made up of wide windows.

Stark opened the doors and we entered, the warmth of indoors hitting me the instant we stepped in.

"Bruuuuuce!" He called, his voice echoing in the fluorescent-lit room.

"Up here!" A voice from above answered. We ascended a tall, spiral staircase to the second floor. As I walked, I observed my surroundings. Machines lined the walls, monitors flickered and beeped. The top floor was the same, full of technology that probably cost millions, if not billions, of dollars. Which seemed to not be a problem for S.H.I.E.L.D.

Dr. Bruce Banner sat at a desk that faced the large windows. He glanced up from the computer screen he was studying intently as we entered the room, giving a small grin at Tony and a nod at me.

"Quinn, was it?" Banner asked, removing his glasses from the bridge of his nose and placing them in his shirt pocket.

I nodded and continued my silent observation of the room, my eyes lingering on the equipment.

Stark sat down in a spinning desk chair and swirled his way over, acting in his characteristic childish and mischievous way.

"She doesn't talk much. Mostly nods." He swiveled his way over to me, and then spun around me in a circle.

"She's the strong, silent, gloomy and depressed type. Hence the the lack of color in her wardrobe and the creepy hood."

I repressed an irritated scowl and Banner rolled his eyes, returning to typing on his computer.

"Sadly, you get used to him after a while. Doesn't mean he's any less annoying." Banner said.

Now it was Stark's turn to roll his eyes. I looked out the window and saw S.H.I.E.L.D fighter jets streak across the sky, probably a training routine.

"Almost time for training, Quinn. We should be making our way down there. Fury gets grumpy when we're late. See you in a bit, Bruce!"

Banner didn't look up from his work, just nodded absently.

As we walked out of the lab, Stark turned to me.

"By the way, Fury wants all of the Avengers to watch you fight. See how good you are, your tactics, catalogue if you're a possible threat, etc."

"I better give him a show then."

Stark grinned. "That's the spirit. Show him that you can fight to match your kick-ass attitude. By the way," he glanced at me as we strolled outside by the various compound buildings to get to the main building. "You probably shouldn't trust Fury, not many of us actually trust him fully, including me. His secrets have secrets."

"What was your first clue, the trench coat or the eye patch?" I asked dryly.

Tony chuckled. "I was thinking it was more of the 'I can send people to kill you in your sleep' vibe, but that's just me."


	9. Chapter 8

[Quinn]

Stark accompanied me to the elevator, where we split ways as he went to the top floor where his room was located and I went down to Floor 10. I stepped off to be met by the dank chill of being underground.

As I walked down the hallways to get to my room, I noticed someone was walking behind me. I could hear their shoes hitting the ground, the soft taps echoing through the halls. A glance behind me confirmed that someone was there, because I could see a faint shadow of a person creeping along the concrete wall, just around the corner.

For an experiment, I stepped to the right side of the hallway so whoever was around the corner could see me clearly. I then stopped, bent down, and pretended to redo to laces on my boot. The footsteps stopped. I stood and continued on my way down a corridor to the right, in the opposite direction of where I knew my room was. The footsteps started again.

Silently, I pulled one of my daggers from its sheath. I spied a corner just up the hall that I could hide behind. Then, I could see who was following me. Shooting a glimpse over my shoulder, I made sure the shadow was still there. Quickly, I turned the corner, and instantly stumbled back as I smacked into something solid.

A hand grabbed my elbow to steady me as I was knocked backwards from the impact. I cursed and looked up from under my hood to see Steve Rogers, his blue eyes concerned.

"Are you okay?" He asked, then seemed to realize he was still holding onto my elbow and released it.

I took a step back and then turned slightly to see behind me. Whoever was tailing me had disappeared.

"Fine." I muttered.

"Your room is down the third hall to the left, get lost?" His voice didn't reveal it, but I could tell he was a bit suspicious.

"I could ask you the same thing." I replied. Steve didn't say anything, but I could tell he was still wary of me.

"Well," he said, "I guess it's time to get to training. This way."

He turned and strolled down the hallway in the direction I just came from until we reached an elevator. We rode up to Floor 6, where we got off. Rogers led me down the corridor, nodding at agents as he passed, who looked at him with a mixture of respect and awe. Finally, we turned down a hallway lined with the steel doors I had become accustomed to in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, where we stopped at a door.

As Steve slid his security clearance card into the little slot, he turned to me.

"This is the main training hallway. The gym is a few doors down, along with some rooms for sparring and boxing. This one is meant for training and evaluation."

A small light next to the card slot turned green, and the door slid open. We entered a large room with lightly padded mats on the floor and metal walls. A large one-way glass window stretched across the far wall, with a door to its side. Lights in the ceiling gave the room a yellowish glow. For a second, I flashed back to a room similar to the one I was in.

_ A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting everything in a yellowish tinge. The room was cold and windowless. Dark red stains splattered the metal walls and floor, sending shivers up my spine and making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. A single metal table, the type found in hospitals, sat in the center of the room. Next to it was a display of syringes and surgical instruments. But this was far from a harmless medical procedure. I strained against my bound wrists, but it was no use... I couldn't free myself..._

A hand brushed my elbow and I jerked, my hand immediately reaching for my dagger once I was broken out of my flashback.

"This way." Steve said, giving me a curious look. We walked into the room that led behind the window. I scolded myself for letting me fall into a memory. I needed to focus.

The room was much larger than I expected, with a row of chairs set up for observing the training room and a wall of shelves stocked with every weapon you could imagine, from guns to bows and arrows.

Fury and the rest of the Avengers were waiting for us, along with an agent. I felt everyone's eyes on me the moment I entered the room, but I forced myself to stay calm and have my usual cool demeanor.

Fury stalked to me from across the room, where he was standing and conversing with Agent Barton.

"Still haven't taken your hood off, I see? That may be a liability when you fight." He said, observing me.

"And your eye patch isn't a liability when _you_ fight?" I shot back.

I think I made a valid point because Fury said nothing, then turned and addressed the rest of the room.

"This is how it's going to work. You can chose from any weapons on that far wall. All of the knifes, ammunition, and arrows aren't lethal if they hit you, but they will still hurt. They are sharp but blunt enough to not kill, but probably will leave a bruise. We can't let everyone kill each other in training, it would be a waste. All of the weapons have special sensors on the end that stick to their target at the point of contact once they hit it. This way, we can determine your aim and preferred fighting style."

By that he meant _your favorite place to hit/kill people_.

He picked up a gun from a shelf on the wall and loaded it. "For example."

Quickly, he turned and shot Tony, hitting him over his heart. Tony gave a short yelp of surprise before examining the bullet which was now sticking to his shirt, a red light on the end of the bullet blinking.

"Hey, why did you choose to shoot me? Why not Capsicle? Or better yet, Banner?"

Banner shot Tony a look that said, _not funny, man_. Steve just rolled his eyes at the nickname Tony had given him. I would have to ask him about that later.

Fury continued to explain, ignoring Stark's comment. He's probably used to them by now.

"The weapon will blink red if it hits an opposing human target. The sensors are sensitive and can measure temperature, therefore determining if what it hit is living or not. It also uses scanners to tell where it hit the person, for example the heart."

He stalked to a computer and clicked something, making a scan of Tony pop up, his features made of green vertical and horizontal lines to make the image look three dimensional. A red dot was over his heart, marking where Fury had shot him.

"The Phantom here will fight rounds against opponents. Once one of the two are hit by the other's weapon and the hit is determined lethal or debilitating, the round will end and we will see the victor of the two sides. Any questions?"

His eye scanned the room, taking in everyone's silence. "Good." His gaze landed on me. "First, you will face off against Agent Browne."

A woman wearing a gray S.H.I.E.L.D. jumpsuit nodded at me. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she had a stony, dark blue gaze. She looked to be in her thirties, and was taller than my 5'4 stature, around 5'6 or 5'7. She gave a small nod at me, not hiding the fact she was sizing me up.

"Agent Browne is one of our training instructors and is one of our most skilled at hand-to-hand combat, which you will fight against her with first." He eyed my daggers hanging from my waist. "Both of you, please place all of your weapons on this table." He motioned to a long metal table against the wall.

"And if I don't want to?" I asked. A muscle in Fury's jaw twitched. He wasn't used to being disobeyed.

"If you refuse I will submit you for a full body weapon screening, and you'll probably never see any of your weapons again."

I growled and made my way towards the table where Browne was already removing all of her weapons obediently.

Browne only put down her handgun and a taser. It was quite pathetic that those were the only weapons she carried. But then again, maybe those were the only ones she needed. I guess I'll find out soon enough.

I pulled off my dagger belt and placed it on the table. Fury was staring intently at me, knowing those weren't the only weapons I had. I retrieved a pocket knife out of my boot and placed it on the metal table with a dull thud. Fury still stared at me. I reached into my sleeve and extracted a few small, steel throwing stars that I know how to use but I rarely do. Fury's scrutinizing gaze continued to burn into me.

Annoyed, I turned to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry I left my tank at home, and my missile launcher is having some technical difficulties at the moment." I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Director Fury just grunts and jerks his head toward the training room. What he doesn't know is that I still have a small, steel knife on me. I would be an idiot to get rid of all of my weapons. I still trust all of these people as far as I can throw them.

"The first one who renders the other unable to move or fight back is the winner. No playing dirty."

He glances at me. "Are we understood?" Browne and I both nod.

We both step into the room, where Browne does a few quick stretches and swings her arms around, making sure she's limber. I stand still and maintain a bored attitude, but I'm ready to release some of my locked up tension. I haven't been able to fly in a day or use my powers, and it's making me go a bit stir crazy.

I pull on my gloves and slowly flex my fingers, the material so familiar to me it feels like a second skin. I glance Browne over quickly, gathering as much of her fighting style as I can. She's in a fighting position, slightly crouched over and extending her arms in front of her, ready to throw a punch. I notice her right arm is held a bit too high, allowing me to land a kick just below her ribs.

Her eyes pierce my stature. I'm still standing there, my arms at my sides. It looks like I'm completely relaxed, but my muscles are tense and I'm ready to spring from any movement she makes.

A new set of lights turn on, making the room brighter. The door to the back room slides shut, and Fury's voice booms through the room over a loudspeaker.

"The round begins now. Good luck."

I crouched into a fighting stance as Browne and I began to circle each other like hawks, eying each other's every motion. After a few seconds, Browne makes the first move.

She lunges forward and aims a punch at my face. My mind switches to fighting mode and I see all of her movements as if they're in slow motion, easy to block and hit back. I quickly duck and dart to the side, then use the momentum to spin around and give her a swift, hard roundhouse kick to the ribs, then I dance away before she knew what happened.

Browne stumbles back a bit, but recovers herself in time to advance on me again. Her boot shoots out and nearly smacks me in the side of the head, but I'm too fast for her to hit me. I step to the right as she attempts to jab her elbow into my stomach, then shoot a well aimed punch at her jaw.

My fist connects with her face, snapping her head back. I take this chance to give her a rapid punch to her nose, making her fall to the floor with a heavy thud.

Browne lay there, unconscious. _She_ was "one of their most skilled at hand-to-hand combat?" The round lasted for less than a minute.

Fury stalked into the room and looked at me for a second, observing the scene.

"It seems I underestimated you. When the rumors said that the Phantom was an amazing fighter, I guess they didn't lie, did they?"

At that moment, Browne sat up, blinking and rubbing her jaw. Her nose was trickling blood, which she wiped on her sleeve. Regaining her composure, she stood and nodded at me.

"Good round. Has anyone ever told you that you have one hell of a punch?"

"They're usually knocked out by the time they figure it out."

Browne nodded in agreement.

"Agent Browne, you can report to the infirmary if you need to, then you can take the rest of the day off."

"Yes, Director." Browne left the room, leaving Fury and I.

Fury sauntered towards the back room and motioned for me to follow. When we entered the room, all of the Avenger's heads turned to me.

Stark stood and walked to stand in front of me.

"That lasted for less than a minute, and your hood didn't even fall off. Good job, rookie. You're better than I expected." By the looks on everyone's faces, I guessed that Stark rarely gave compliments without adding a small quip or side comment.

I could feel Fury's eyes burning into my back as he paced around the room, thinking.

"It would appear so." He said. "But now, it's going to get harder. A lot harder."


	10. Chapter 9

[Steve Rogers]

I watched in stunned silence as Quinn fought Agent Browne. All of her movements were fluid and perfectly timed. Not to mention fast. Quinn ducked a punch from Browne then just as fast spun around and struck her with a fierce roundhouse kick that made me want to wince. That had to hurt.

_Now I know why she's called the Phantom_, I thought._ She's there and gone before your mind can register what just happened._

Browne nearly kicked her in the side of the head, but missed. She quickly recoiled and attempted to elbow Quinn in the stomach. Again, Quinn was just out of reach. Quinn shot two rapid punches at Browne's face, one in the jaw, the other in the nose.

Browne slumped to the floor, unconscious. Quinn stood there, not even slightly winded. Fury rose and walked to the door, muttering "Stay here." to us. Quinn looked up as Fury entered the room, and I noticed her hood was still in place, shadowing her features except for her full, pale lips, slightly hallow cheeks, and part of her nose.

"She's a great fighter." Natasha said, observing her. "How did she get so good? Someone must have to had taught her. She's young, I can tell she's at least 17. I was barely at her level at age 20."

Hawkeye nodded in agreement. "Browne couldn't even touch her, and she's been doing hand-to-hand combat for nearly her entire life." He watched Browne slowly get off of the ground and talk to Fury. "It's...interesting, to say the least."

I glanced at Thor and Banner to see what they thought. Thor looked mildly bored, and Banner was in his usual thoughtful mood.

Browne left the training room, and Fury and the Phantom came into our room.

Stark rose and strolled across the room to stand in front of Quinn.

"That lasted for less than a minute, and your hood didn't even fall off. Good job, rookie. You're better than I expected."

I waited for the 'but you'll never be better than me', but it never came. Wait, did Tony Stark just give an actual compliment?

My eyes shifted to Director Fury. From the look on his face, he was planning something as he observed Quinn.

"It would appear so." There was a calculating glint in his eye. "But now, it's going to get harder. A lot harder."

As Fury talked, Stark silently crept around the room to stand behind Quinn.

Quinn turned to look at Fury, staring him evenly in his eye. "Why, what will you gain by testing me and seeing me fight? I already know you want to find if I'm classified as a possible threat, which I have no doubt you're going to do, but what else do you want me for?"

Stark's hand reached out, and his intentions become clear. He's going to remove her hood. I wanted to warn her, but like everyone else, I'm curious about the girl who no one knows about, is a mystery.

She paused for a second. "It's because you want to know who I am. I'm the one you don't know about out of the millions of people you do. If there's one thing I already know about you, Fury, is that you can't stand not knowing that one piece of information you don't have."

Fury's jaw clenched, but in his eyes I could tell he was almost gloating, because he's a second away from discovering something about her that will ultimately lead to his knowing of who she is.

Stark's fingers inched closer, a breath away from the dark gray fabric of her hood.

"Well, you won't find out today" Quinn said, an edge in her voice.

Tony's hand shot out, but clutched thin air as Quinn quickly sidestepped his attempt to reveal her identity. Her elbow swung back and caught him in the jaw, then she grabbed his arms and shoved him against the wall with a thud. She twisted his arms behind his back, pressing him face-first into the wall.

"If you try that again, it will be the last thing you ever do. Understand?" She growled, looking predatory, then released him.

Stark turned around, rubbing his jaw which was already starting to become swollen and bruised.

"How did you know I was behind you?" He asked, slightly incredulous.

"One, I heard you. Two, the shift in everyone's eyes for a second. Three, it would help if I was facing away from the window and couldn't see a slight reflection in the glass."

Muttering a curse and then shooting a glare at my smirk, he made his way back across the room and sat in his chair.

Fury then turned to Quinn again, a slightly amused expression on his face.

"Let's do some target practice, shall we?"

_Thud. Thud. Thud_.

All of the daggers hit their targets one after another in quick succession and sank into the boards, each one landing in dead center.

Quinn was good at throwing knives. When I say good, I mean _really_ good. Even though she was using daggers that were unfamiliar to her, her aim was perfect.

The team and I leaned on the walls, watching Quinn throw daggers. So far, she had tried all of the types of daggers that S.H.I.E.L.D. had in its training room, including some throwing stars and some other things, and despite them all having differing shapes and weights, all of them met the exact center of the red ringed target.

"Now do that with your eyes closed!" Tony called.

"Is that a challenge?" Quinn asked, angling her body to face him.

"Only if you aren't too scared to try and break your perfect record." he retorted, mockingly.

After a second's thought, Quinn said, "Challenge accepted."

She strode to the table where all of the daggers were laid out. Her fingers skimmed all of the weapons as she carefully chose one of each type of dagger, six in total including one of her own, and put two in her dagger sheaths. She then held one in her right hand, which was her dominant throwing hand, though she could throw with both, and the other three in her left hand.

Quinn faced the wall of six targets, carefully observing the placement of each.

"How do I know your eyes are closed?" Stark asked.

"What, you don't trust me?" she said sarcastically.

Stark disappeared into the back room for a minute or two before returning with a blindfold. Scowling, Quinn took it from him and tied it around her eyes, over her hood.

"Better?"

Stark stood in front of her, waving his hands in front of her face.

"Are you waving your hands to make yourself look more idiotic than usual?" she questioned.

"Can you see that?" Tony studied the thick, vision blocking blindfold around her face, wondering how in the world she could see.

"No, I can sense it."

"Just to make sure," Tony held up both of his hands, his fingers closed in fists. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

She tilted her head to the side for a second before answering. "None? Trick question."

I chuckled as Tony's cocky expression slipped for a second, then he suddenly held up two fingers. "Two. You're wrong."

During all of this, Fury stood by the rest of us near the wall, looking slightly bemused.

"Liar. You just moved." Quinn scowled, which I found she did quite often when talking to Tony, and then walked to stand in front of the first target.

The room became so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Quinn took a few deep breaths while weighing the weight of the dagger in her hand.

Quicker than I could blink, she threw the first dagger. It spun in the air before sinking into the center of the target. Before the dagger had even hit the target, she was already throwing the next one, then the next, all with a scarily accurate precision.

Intrigued, I took in every one of her motions as she glided across the room. As soon as her pale fingers wrapped around a new dagger, she was already pulling another out.

_Thunk. Thud_.

I observed her perfect, smooth motions, how she knew just how to flick or turn her wrist for each dagger.

I had to remind myself that she was blindfolded, that she couldn't see anything out of the dark fabric obstructing her eyes. Watching her, it was almost graceful in a sense. Her lips were parted slightly in concentration, and I could imagine that her eyebrows were slightly scrunched together as she focused.

When she finished, the silence in the room intensified without the rhythmic sound of blades hitting targets.

I tore my focus away from the mysterious Phantom for a second as I studied the targets. In perfect unison, a knife sliced through the red dot in the center of the white paper taped to the target. All six had hit their marks without fail.

Quinn slowly reached up and removed the blindfold and observed the targets. I noticed that the corner of her mouth turned up slightly, a tiny, crooked smirk gracing her lips for a second before returning to their usual stoic position. That was the closest thing to a smile she had shown yet.

"That good enough for you, Stark?" Quinn inquired. "Or do you think that was just luck?"

"There is no such thing as luck. Just chance, and science."

"Then what do you call you having a girlfriend who likes you enough to be in an actual relationship with you?" Clint asked.

"My pure charm and genius, of course. It also doesn't hurt to have my dashing good looks."

More than one person in the room shot him a disbelieving look.

Fury shifted from his spot against the wall and stalked across the room to stand in front of Quinn.

"Tomorrow, we'll continue the training. Meet here, seven o'clock a.m." Fury shifted to face all of us. "You're dismissed." He swept out of the room, talking into his earpiece.

Banner leaned over and murmured something in Tony's ear, to which he nodded, and they both left the room together, most likely heading towards the labs. The rest of the Avengers dispersed to go do whatever they wanted to before dinner.

Quinn retrieved her daggers and put them back inside her belt, slightly relaxing after she did so. I followed her into the back room and watched as she collected all of her weapons.

"I'm guessing after Fury made you remove all of your weapons, you still had at least one, am I right?" I broke the silence.

"Maybe, maybe not. You can decide for yourself."

"Now that I think about it, the more I don't want to know how many weapons you carry on you."

"That would be wise."

I suddenly realized how tense she was, and how hard she was gripping the table as she gathered her things.

"Are you ok?" I fought the urge to step closer and see what was the matter, but I kept my distance.

"Fine," was her clipped answer. She then turned to look at me. "You ready?"

I nodded, and we left the training room. As we walked down the hallway, I watched her from the corner of my eye, question after question entering my mind.

What was that back there? Where did she learn to fight? Who is she?

_I don't know anything about her_, I decide, _but something about her makes me want to find out. _Not just because Fury wants me to keep an eye on her, because something about her intrigues me. I just don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but I guess with time I'll decide which one it is.


	11. Chapter 10

[Quinn]

_ Well, that was fun_, I thought dryly as I picked up my weapons from the table in the back room of the training center. _At least now they know that I'm not to be messed with_.

"I'm guessing after Fury made you remove all of your weapons, you still had at least one, am I right?" Steve asked, watching me pick up my weapons.

"Maybe, maybe not. You can decide for yourself."

"Now that I think about it, the more I don't want to know how many weapons you carry on you."

"That would be wise."

Fun fact about me: I can slit your throat anywhere, anytime of the day! It's really not an admirable trait, but at least I'm always prepared.

Suddenly, a white hot pain sliced through me, spreading from my heart into the rest of my body. I gritted my teeth and my fingers clenched the table, my knuckles turning white. _Damn it, not again_.

An unpleasant memory flashed in my mind. I could see a dank, concrete room from where I was peering through the bars of a cage. I fought the memory back, forcing it and other flashbacks into the back of my mind.

"Are you okay?" Captain America asked, sounding concerned.

Dang it, he had noticed.

"Fine." I gritted out, the pain subsiding and fading into a dull ache in my heart. I turned to him, trying to act like nothing had happened. "Are you ready?"

He nodded, still looking a bit suspicious and careful, but didn't press any further. We left the training center and headed towards the mess hall for dinner. Every so often, I could feel him glancing at me, making me a bit nervous. He would probably mention that I suddenly acted strange when he reports to Fury, but then again he may not.

My anxiety grew as we stepped onto the elevator to find it already filled with several people. Every time the elevator stopped to let someone out, it seemed like three more people had to get on.

_ Can't this death trap go any faster?_ I thought as I subconsciously fiddled with the handle of my dagger, shooting uneasy glances from underneath my hood at the agents and scientists on the elevator with us.

Finally, Steve Rogers and I got off and went to the mess hall, where they were serving hamburgers, french fries, and fruit salad.

I wasn't any hungrier than usual, as I was used to only eating a light breakfast and a dinner, so I only got one hamburger and some fries. I didn't bother with condiments and grabbed a water to drink, then followed Steve to a table where Thor was sitting.

Steve sat in front of Thor and I sat across from him. My mouth nearly dropped open in surprise as I saw the five huge hamburgers and a pile of fries on Thor's tray. I glanced over and saw that Steve had two hamburgers and some of everything else. Then, Hawkeye sat down in front of me, his tray piled as high as Captain America's.

"Damn, do they have to kill a cow just for the three of you?"

All three of the Avengers glanced at me, amusement on their faces.

"This is nothing compared to what I can eat when I'm at my home in Asguard." Thor said, chewing on some fries. "The royal chefs create feasts every night."

I took a bite of my hamburger and took a moment to chew and swallow before answering.

"I'm guessing that Asguard isn't on Earth, am I right? Something to do with your accent and the fact you wear a cape and armor."

He nodded. "Yes, you are correct. I come from a planet galaxies away, where I am a king. I am the protector of Earth, so when I heard about the attacks of the demons I felt it was my duty to come and help. I was here on Earth only a little over a year ago, for my brother Loki had escaped to this planet. He was the one who opened the portal in New York and let the Chitauri, the aliens that caused the destruction of New York, invade." When he mentioned Loki, his voice became slightly bitter.

"When was the alien invasion, again?"

"At the beginning of last fall."

That's why I can't remember it; it was the fall before I escaped. I had no idea that an alien invasion had happened until a few weeks after I broke free. I escaped on January 1st, New Year's. That's probably why the people looking for me couldn't find me in the city, the streets were crowded with everyone celebrating. I was captured on my 16th birthday, February 17th. When I escaped, I was thought to be dead for nearly a year, hence why I use the fake identity of Alexis Smith at work.

"It was the only thing on the news for at least a month." Hawkeye said quietly. He looked up at me. "Where were you when it happened?"

"Fycon City." I answered. It was the truth, but what I didn't mention is that at the time it happened I was most likely chained to a wall or locked in a cage. No doubt being tortured and experimented on. I stopped eating, my appetite gone.

"Could you see it from your city? People said that they could see the smoke and destruction from dozens of miles away." Steve Rogers said.

"I guess you could." But I wouldn't know.

After a few seconds of silence, Thor asked me a question.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about the machine that splits souls? I have lived a very long time, longer than any mortal, and even I can't fathom any machine as such existing."

"It's called the Irritum Animam. And it shouldn't exist. Nothing like it should ever exist." I replied, my voice cold and distant. I saw the three Avengers share a quick glance.

"Break Soul." Thor said. I nodded.

Suddenly, Hawkeye perked up and pressed a finger to his ear.

"Yes, Director Fury?" He listened to what Fury told him through his earpiece. "Yes, they're sitting right in front of me."

His face grew grim and he nodded. "I'll tell them."

Barton turned to Steve and I. "There's been another attack. Fury wants to send you two out to see if you can help clean out some of the demons. Meet at the helicopter pad in ten minutes, and you'll be taken into New York City."

Steve shot a glance at me and nodded. "Better suit up."

We stood and began to stride out of the mess hall, towards where the Avengers kept their uniforms. Steve stepped into a room and I waited outside. A few moments later, he emerged wearing his Captain America uniform, shield in hand.

Since I was already wearing my Phantom outfit, we went straight to the helicopter pad, where a helicopter was waiting for us, Fury standing next to it.

"Most of the attacks are near the heart of the city, where the citizens are easy prey. I assume that you know how to take care of it, Phantom, but you can't save everyone by yourself in a big city like this, hence why Cap is coming with you. Also, because we don't want you running away on us."

"Why don't you just get me a dog collar, so if I get lost someone will return me? It'll make all of this easier."

I was taunting Fury, and he knew it.

"Just do your job."

We climbed inside the helicopter and were soon airborne, flying towards New York City. I could already be there if I flew myself, but for now I'm not telling the Avengers and Fury that I have giant raven wings. It would lead to too many questions, and Fury would probably put me on lock down, knowing I could escape that much more easily.

The ride to the city was silent, Captain America and I both lost in our own thoughts. Finally, the helicopter landed on a helicopter pad on top of a building, from the looks of it I guessed it was a hospital. I'm sure it's a precaution in case someone noticed a helicopter landing on some random building. This way, it would make it look like a life flight or something.

"I got you as close to the heart of the city as I could," the pilot told us. "When you're ready to go back to headquarters, just give the word and someone will pick you up."

Before he stood to get out, Steve picked up his mask.

"Does that cover your ears?" I asked him, gesturing to the blue mask.

"Yes, it does." He replied, looking slightly confused.

"Leave it. You don't want it to block your hearing, and we'll stick to dark alleys, anyway."

He nodded and left on the bench in the helicopter, then handed me a small, metal disk, no bigger than the end of an eraser of a pencil.

"A communication device." He explained. "I have one built into my suit so we can communicate. Just press it onto the inside of your jacket collar."

I nodded and took it, then did what he said.

"Can you hear me?" He asked. An echo of his voice played through the communicator.

"Loud and clear."

We both climbed out of the sleek, black helicopter and watched as it took off. We then proceeded to climb down the fire escape on the side of the building. I winced as Steve's footsteps echoed into the empty side street, deafening compared to my silent ones.

"How do you do that?" He asked.

"Do what?"

"Move so silently."

"Practice."

Every time one of us spoke, a cloud of mist rose from our breaths, reminding me of how cold it was. I hoped that it didn't snow; it would be hard to see if anyone was being attacked. After reaching the side street below, we continued walking through the winding alleys until we were a safe distance away from where someone could overhear us.

Steve Rogers and I stood in a dim, vacant alley; the only light was being emitted by a forlorn streetlight around the corner of a building.

Cap turned to me. "I think it would be best if I stayed on the rooftops and you stayed in the alleys, if that's okay with you, ma'am. That way-"

I cut him off mid sentence by holding up my hand, silencing him.

"One: don't tell me what to do. Two: don't call me ma'am. Got it?"

He nodded.

"Good. Now, this is what we're going to do. We're both going to stick to the rooftops to give us a better visual of the back alleyways and side streets. You'll want to spend most of your time closer to where there are people, but on the outskirts. Demons don't hunt in busy, loud, and bright areas of the city. They're on the outer edges, ready to prey on the stragglers in dark alleys. I'll take everything east of the hospital, you take everything west."

I saw the uncertainty in his eyes when I mentioned that we split up.

"Do you really think I would run away? I know there's not a lot of trust between us, but I promise I won't run the second you turn your back."

He didn't look wary anymore, but he was still doubtful. "Fury gave me strict orders to not let you out of my sight. If he finds out, he may assign you agents that are by your side wherever you are. I trust that you won't run, but Fury doesn't."

I sighed and reached into my jacket and pulled out a small, black switchblade and held it out to him.

"This is my favorite switchblade, and I never go anywhere without it. Hold onto it until I come back. It's extra reassurance that I'll return. Deal?"

He took it from me and placed it into a pocket on the side of his belt.

"Deal."

I turned and started to move towards the east, down another alley, and Captain America turned towards the west.

"Keep in touch with the communicators if you see anything." he said.

"Aye, aye, Captain. Oh, and try to not get your soul sucked out. I'm really not in the mood to drag your lifeless body onto a roof and into a helicopter." I called over my shoulder. Once I was far enough away from him, I spread my wings and took off into the air, on the hunt for demons.


	12. Chapter 11

[Steve Rogers]

"Aye, aye, Captain. Oh, and try to not get your soul sucked out. I'm really not in the mood to drag your lifeless body onto a roof and into a helicopter." The Phantom called.

Gee, that sure was reassuring.

I glanced over my shoulder to reply, but she was already gone. I continued my trek towards the west side of the city, following the directions the Phantom gave me and heading towards the outer rim of the heart of the city, far enough to be removed from the center of things but not so far removed that no one in their right mind would venture out there.

I climbed to crouch on the roof of a building, keeping a sharp eye out for anything suspicious. It would normally be Hawkeye's thing to perch on the edge of a rooftop, but since the new demon-proof weapons for the rest of the Avengers weren't finished yet, he and the others had to stay at base. Fury, with the help of Tony Stark, was attempting to get the team new weapons as fast as he could, but since vibranium is the rarest metal on earth, he was running into some difficulties.

My head turned as I saw a homeless man wandering down the alleyway, holding a tattered backpack in one hand and a soda can in the other. I watched as he hobbled down the alley, taking a last swig from the can before crumpling it and throwing it behind him on the already litter-strewn pavement.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move behind the man in the darkness. I strained my eyes to make sure if I had really seen something, but eventually blamed it on a piece of litter blowing away or a shadow.

But then I heard it. A faint whispering, and the almost inaudible sound of ragged breathing.

_There!_ Something in the shadows shifted, slinking its way towards the man. Quickly and quietly, I climbed down and trailed the man as he ventured further and further away from the safety of the bright and busy section of the city.

My breath caught in my throat as a blood-curdling screech cut through the night, worse than nails being dragged down a chalkboard and the shriek of a rusty gate combined.

The man's eyes widened as he began sprinting down the alley in fear before he tripped and hit his head on the ground, knocking him out cold.

The demon lunged for him, growling inhumanely, leathery wings expanded and claws glinting.

Luckily, my shield reached the monster before it converged on the poor, defenseless man.

My shield knocked it away from the man before reflecting back towards me. I easily caught it, then turned as the demon hissed then lunged for me. I gave the monster a solid hit to the head with my shield, backing up as it fell to the ground, wailing. It then perished into a pile of black dust, which began to disperse in the slight breeze.

I still held my shield at the ready, sending uneasy glances behind me. I didn't want to admit it, but those things gave me the creeps. After checking to make sure the area was clear, I looked at the homeless man, not sure what to do. I could drag him under a lamp post and the light may ward off any hungry demons. But what if he was hurt?

Relieved, I saw the homeless man slowly start to stir. I watched from around a corner as he sat up, muttered something incoherent with fright, then scrambled to his feet and began sprinting back towards a brighter part of the city. Smart move.

"Killed your first demon?" The Phantom's voice asked through the communicator.

I jumped nearly a foot into the air, mentally cursing myself for my jitteriness.

"Yes. Thanks for telling me to take my mask off, I wouldn't have been able to hear it. They're awfully sneaky." I replied. "How many of those things have you encountered so far tonight?"

"Three. Hold on a second." She paused, and then a few moments later I heard the shriek of a demon through my communication device. "Make that four."

"Is this a regular night for you, then?" I walked a little ways before climbing onto another rooftop.

"No. There are more demons here than in Fycon City, which I guess makes since because the number of demons in Fycon City has significantly dropped in the past few weeks. I just need to figure out why they've moved. Wait..."

While I was waiting, I scanned the dark side streets, looking for any movement. Seeing nothing, I easily jumped the gap between the building I was on and another one, continuing my search.

"Five." Came Quinn's voice. A small smile appeared on my lips.

"Well, we still have the rest of the night, it's nowhere close to dawn. Stay in touch if you see anything strange."

"Happy hunting."

[Quinn]

I took a deep breath of the frosty night air, enjoying the air ruffling my feathers and caressing my face as I flew above the city, prowling for demons. When my soul was partly replaced by a raven's soul, it also gave me great night vision, amazing hearing, and the ability to sense minuscule movements around me, all of which became very helpful when hunting demons.

I glanced at the sky, which in the past ten minutes had started to become a tad lighter. Dawn would arrive in about half an hour, slowly creeping across the sky and letting its light scare the demons away.

I softly landed on a roof, then silently retracted my wings.

"Captain, it's about 30 minutes until dawn, so it would be a good idea to make our way back to the rendezvous point."

"Copy that."

I released my wings and took off into the air again, circling every so often to check areas where I thought a demon might be lurking. I stopped as I saw a figure climb down from the roof of a building and into an alley, so I dove closer to get a better look of who it was.

I was soon close enough to see that it was Captain America, looking slightly exhausted and worn out. I guessed the poor guy wasn't used to being up all night long, but for me, I was in my element at night. I barely slept anyways, my nightmares made sure of that.

After a few seconds of contemplation, I decided that I would land on a roof close to where he was and then walk with him back to where the helicopter would pick us up. As I got closer, I noticed a shadow trailing him, merging back into the darkness whenever he would shoot a glance over his shoulder.

He stopped and turned, having caught something in the corner of his eye. Steve raised his shield, and cautiously advanced towards where the demon last was.

My eyes widened as I saw another one of the creatures sneaking up behind him. And another. Why are three demons converging on one person? Were they that desperate, or were there just so many of them that they all can't find their own prey?

I silently dropped into the alley, daggers in hand, ready to attack if Captain America needed help.

There was a shriek, and then a blur of claws, teeth and wings shot out of the darkness like a bullet, straight towards Steve.

A well aimed throw of his shield hit the demon and knocked it backwards, but a demon behind him attacked before he could finish the first one off. Steve nimbly swiveled and hit the demon that lunged from behind, causing it to crumble to the ground in a pile of ashy dust. He then threw his shield at the first demon that had come at him, killing it. The shield then bounced off of the narrow brick walls, created a few small sparks, and landed about ten feet away from him.

Breathing heavily, he glanced around, his eyes skirting right over me but not seeing me hidden in the shadows.

_ Get your shield_, I urged him in my mind. _There's a third demon somewhere in the darkness that has you on its menu._

A second after he turned towards his shield, the demon sprang out of the darkness and hit him in the chest, sending him flying backwards with the monster clinging to him.

Steve struggled as the demon held him down, drool dripping from its crooked mouth. It was the biggest demon I had ever seen, almost as large as Captain America himself.

Okay, time to take action.

I crept behind Steve in the line of sight of the demon, but it was too busy salivating over the Avenger it had pinned to the ground to notice me.

Its gaping mouth opened wide and its head began to lean forwards, ready to suck out the Captain's soul by pressing its mouth against its victim. It never got the chance, however, as I threw my dagger.

The silvery blade sliced the demon straight through the heart. It howled, then perished.

The Captain slowly got up, turning around to face me, but I had quietly flown up and over his head to where I was now behind him. I smirked as he looked around confusedly then jumped when he turned around to see that I was now picking my dagger out of the pile of dust, carefully gripping the handle and wiping away the black blood that now coated its blade.

"I-how-you? Never mind." He stuttered. "Well, thanks for saving me." He gave me a nod and then walked past me to retrieve his shield. "I owe you one."

He looked slightly embarrassed to have been saved by me, but that's why I didn't help him in the first place, or else he would've thought that I assumed he couldn't handle it.

"No problem. Like I said, I'm not in the mood to drag you into a helicopter."

We both looked up at the sky which was lightening quickly, now turning a pale gray streaked with pink, orange, and purple.

"Better get a move on." I said, then began striding down side streets towards the direction of the hospital.

As we returned to the hospital roof, Steve reported back to S.H.I.E.L.D to let them know that our work was completed for the night. We stood in silence as we watched the city slowly come to life, pedestrians with briefcases flagging down taxis or walking to work by the light of the coming dawn.

"Fury says that he wants us to go straight to a meeting when we get back to headquarters. I'm not exactly sure what it's about, but I'm guessing it has something to do with Corvus Vermont."

I nodded in response.

Our heads turned to the sky as the faint sound of helicopter blades slicing the sky met our ears. The helicopter landed and a door slid open for us to get in as I held my hood down to prevent a gust of air from knocking it off. Before I did, though, there was a light tap on my shoulder, and I turned to face Captain America who looked slightly sheepish.

"Thanks again, for, well, saving my life." He said with a smile. "I'll try to keep Fury off of your back about your identity."

I simply nodded again, but I felt a bit grateful towards the Avenger. That would be one thing to not worry so much about. As much as I try to hide my identity, I know S.H.I.E.L.D. will eventually find something about me to use to their advantage.

We both climbed into the helicopter and it quickly took off. I stared out of my window and watched as the sun rose, but not really seeing it as I was preoccupied with my thoughts.

Why were the demons moving from Fycon City to New York? And what the hell was Corvus Vermont planning?


	13. Chapter 12

The helicopter touched down with a light thud, jerking me from my thoughts. An agent on the landing pad rushed forwards and slid the door open, gave a salute to the Captain, and then scurried away.

"Here."

I looked over to see that Captain America was holding my switchblade out to me. I took it from him and tucked it into my jacket before giving a nod of thanks.

"Almost forget it?" Steve asked as we stood to exit the helicopter.

"No. Just wondering if you were going to give it back or not. You could've gotten my fingerprints off of it, identified me."

"I promised to try and keep Fury off of your back about your identity. A promise is a promise." He shrugged.

I decided that Captain America was the type of person who was honest, straightforward, and kept his word. That didn't mean that I had to trust him.

When I stepped out of the helicopter, Director Fury's scowling, irritated face was the first thing I saw.

"Briefing room. Now." He demanded, turning on his heel and stalking towards the building, leaving no room for discussion. Steve and I complied, following him down a series of hallways and elevators until we reached the room I was taken to when I first arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D.

The rest of the Avengers were already sitting at the long, mahogany table surrounded by dark, leather chairs. The second we entered the room, all of the discussions came to an abrupt end, but I caught fragments of the team members' conversations.

"-keep your eyes open." Agents Barton and Romanoff looked to be in deep discussion about something. The way the assassins looked at me with a spark of distrust and suspicion in their eyes on an otherwise carefully blank face told me it had something to do with me.

"-no, Thor, cars don't run on magic. They run on gas, which..." Tony's voice explained to a confused Thor. Dr. Banner, who was seated next to Stark, had a look of amusement on his face as he listened to Tony and Thor's exchange.

"Good morning." Fury addressed the group, all eyes now focused on him. Steve sat next to Banner and I sat on the far side of the table where none of the chairs close to me were occupied.

"Is that what you call being dragged into a meeting room before six in the morning and without any coffee?" Stark grumbled.

Fury ignored him. The doors to the room opened and a woman wearing a S.H.I.E.L.D. catsuit and who had her dark hair in a bun, a man wearing a smart, black suit and tie with brown hair, and Vincent Crowe, with his graying hair slicked back and wearing a similar suit to the other man, stepped into the room.

"Hill, please pull up the information. Crowe, take a seat." Fury ordered.

The woman, Agent Hill, obediently strode to a laptop at the end of the table and typed something, causing a holographic display of information to flicker to life.

My eyes followed Crowe as he sat a few seats away from me to my left. He turned and gave me a chilling, almost mocking smile, before turning his attention back to Director Fury. Something about Crowe set me on edge, but I kept my face, even though you couldn't see much of it, blank and maintained my composure, no matter how irritated or uneasy I felt. Or how much I wanted to smack that stupid smirk off of Crowe's face and demand why I had a feeling that we'd met before.

"Coulson, I assume the mission went well?" Fury asked the agent standing next to him.

"Yes Director, though it was a bit harder than I anticipated. Made it a bit more interesting, though, even with the extra resistance."

Fury nodded in approval.

Thor stood as he noticed Agent Coulson, eyebrows drawn in confusion and looking shocked. "Sir Coulson, how can this be that you are in my presence unharmed and alive? I watched Loki kill you before my very eyes."

"Almost kill me, you mean." Agent Coulson said.

"You see, Thor," Tony supplied, leaning back in his chair with an air of slight disinterest, "St. Nick here thought that the team needed a push, so he told us that Loki had killed Coulson when, in fact, he was in stable condition and resting in a hospital somewhere in Norway while he healed."

Tony's words from earlier rang through my head. _"You probably shouldn't trust Fury. His secrets have secrets." _No surprisethere.

Stark sent a glare at Fury who shrugged and said, "The Avengers needed a push. It worked, saved millions of people, the world wasn't conquered by aliens. End of story."

"And I got to see Norway." added Coulson, a slight smile on his face.

"I am glad you are well, my friend." Thor beamed, smiling.

"Ok, enough chatting!" Fury cut in. He stalked to the front of the room where the display was and waved his hand. A picture of Corvus Vermont popped up. My father's face seemed to gloat at me as he smiled like a wolf, eyes glinting. A window of information appeared beside his picture.

"Corvus Pyre Vermont. 48 years old, one of the twelve city council members of Fycon City. He married Camilla Alexa Combe and had two daughters. The eldest was Talia Alexandra Vermont, the youngest was Sophia Elizabeth Vermont. They were eleven years apart in age."

Oh, looky here, S.H.I.E.L.D. has my whole life on file. Surprise, surprise.

"Two years ago on February 19th, Mrs. Vermont and her two daughters were killed in a car accident when the car skidded on a path of ice, sending them over the guard rail and into a ditch."

The "car crash", otherwise known as my mother's, sister's, and I's staged death, happened two days after my birthday. That would mean it happened the day after Sophia and I were imprisoned. My father told me that he had faked our deaths in a car crash, but I didn't know the date he did it until a few days ago at O'Leery's Bar after watching the news report.

The same picture that was shown on the news a few days ago popped up, along with a family picture. The smile on my face made me sick. The smile on my father's face made me feel even more nauseated. This was a couple of months before I discovered my father was insane and should be locked in a mental asylum, before I found my mother dead on the living room rug with a knife wound to the stomach. Before Sophia and I were prisoners in the basement of our own home.

I closed my eyes and attempted to calm down my anger and resentment and gain some mental and emotional composure. I looked at the screen in time to see a new picture come up, one of a red, totaled Cadillac in an icy ditch. What made me sick was that you could see three mops of hair, all covered in blood, in the car from where the picture was taken from the back. Silvery blond hair: my mother's. Golden curls: Sophia's. Fiery red hair: mine, or the color it used to be.

Did my father murder three more people, possibly with their hair cut and dyed the same way as ours or who were wearing wigs, to make the scene look completely convincing? He already had control of the head of police, he needn't bother making the scene look more realistic if he was already paying the head of police to cover up the crime and say that the bodies were identified as us.

I already knew the answer to my own question: would he murder three more people to complete the accident scene when it was unnecessary? Yes, he would. Why? Because he kills people for entertainment, for fun.

My anger rose and I strained not to draw my dagger and drive it through the image of his face or dive out the window and attempt to find him right then and there and make him plead for mercy. Make him feel what would only be a fraction of my physical and emotional pain.

Fury continued his report of his findings. "Talia was sixteen and Sophia was only five. Their funeral was held a few days later on the 22nd. The story made big news in Fycon City because Vermont is one of the most influential council members of the city, and as Quinn has already stated, the most powerful."

What better way for my father to gloat over me than to give me a funeral? I remember that day because he came into the cell in the basement that Sophia and I were being held in and gave us a bouquet of flowers that someone had left on our graves.

"Wait, hold on a second." Tony interjected, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "JARVIS, where was I two years ago on February the 22nd?"

A smooth, male, and slightly robotic British voice answered Tony. "You were at the funeral of Mrs. Camilla Vermont and her two daughters, sir. Ms. Potts made you accept the invitation to their funeral because at the time you were sponsoring a project of the city council's called The Soul of Fycon City, a project that gives donations to many nonprofit organizations in Fycon City that need extra financial help."

Wow, Tony Stark was at my funeral. And he donated money to "The Soul of Fycon City". What he doesn't know is that the money donated to that fund undoubtedly went into my father's pocket to sponsor his little human "projects", aka experiments and torture.

"Thanks, JARVIS." After sending a glance at me, Tony explained. "JARVIS is my butler. He's an artificial intelligence that I made, seeing as all of the butlers I had when I was in my teens quit because I pulled so many pranks on them and terrorized them to the point of them leaving, even with their hefty salaries. Safe to say I didn't like any of my butlers, they nagged too much. That's why I made my own. JARVIS still nags, but I can always reprogram him. Did you know..."

"Sir, I believe that you are rambling." JARVIS interrupted.

Tony paused mid-sentence and glanced around the room at everyone's slightly annoyed and exasperated faces.

"Right. Sorry. JARVIS, do I still donate to that fund?"

"No, sir. You ceased funding the program after you had a _disagreement_, shall we say, with one of the council members while you were at the funeral." If an AI could show slight distaste and disapproval, it was JARVIS.

Tony's eyes lit up with mischief. "Ah, I remember that! During the visitation, (they had a lot of food, it was really quite fancy), a man was yelling at a waitress who he had run into, causing her to drop a tiny bit of caviar on his shoe. He threw a hissy fit, was being a real jackass. Anyway, I ended up pouring a glass of wine down his suit."

Tony looked up to see that a few, like Barton and Thor, were slightly amused. Everyone else looked slightly annoyed, and Steve was giving Tony a disapproving look. I kept my face stoic, but was actually amused and fought back a smirk. I wondered which council member Tony had encountered, all of them were righteous, pompous jerks, Corvus Vermont being the worst.

Fury sighed. "Okay, story time is over. Stark, have you ever met Vermont? Do you know which council member it was that you fought with?

"No, I've never had an actual conversation with Vermont. And I don't know which council member that was. JARVIS, any ideas?"

"Josiah Enderton, sir."

At this, I wanted to get up and give Tony Stark a metal. Josiah was my great uncle, something like three times removed. I had met him before, and the only word to describe him was asshole. I never liked it when he came over to discuss business with my father.

Coulson, who had been flipping through files on the council members, said, "Josiah Enderton is a distant uncle of Corvus Vermont."

"Well, that settles it. I still regret nothing." Tony said.

Fury then went into detail about Corvus Vermont's address, his family (He was an only child and his parents were already deceased, same as with my mother), and his job as a councilman. Fury was able to uncover some of Vermont's business partners, but S.H.I.E.L.D. only knew about half of them. They had already run into a few dead ends because they couldn't prove who was in the League and who wasn't, but they had some leads.

What they didn't know is that I had already interrogated all of their leads and then some more they didn't know about. After I interrogated someone, I made them forget that the conversation even happened, thanks to a piece of technology that I had. A month or so after I escaped, I called a friend of mine, Lucius Nash. He works in a high position job for Fletcher Industries, which is a large business in Dayton City, New York that makes technology and weapons.

My father used to take me to business parties, but the only reason I went to any of the parties was because it made my father look good, gave him a little toy to show off. At one of these parties, I met Lucius. He was the only person I met at any of the gatherings that my father used to drag me to that was actually nice and we quickly became friends. He's the only person that I have ever told about what my father did and the only person who knows that I'm the Phantom.

Lucius was shocked that I was alive, but he did admit to having suspicions against my father and had dropped all business deals with him after my 'death'. When I told him my plan to seek vengeance against my father, he was opposed to it at first, saying that it was extremely dangerous and he didn't want me to get hurt. I argued that since everyone already thought I was dead it was a perfect opportunity to investigate and get some information. Also, I was the only person who knew how to kill the demons that were plaguing Fycon City that had already taken more than thirty lives. Lucius eventually relented and agreed to help me, but he made me swear that if I needed help I was to call him.

He made me my daggers, my leather jacket, and these little memory erasing chips. After I interrogate someone, instead of having to kill them, I have these tiny, clear patches that I put on the person's neck, right behind the ear. The chip instantly dissolves into the person's skin and causes memory loss of about fifteen minutes.

That way, if the person I interrogated does realize that something had happened, they would forget who it was and what was said. It helps my conscience knowing that I don't have to kill someone after I get information out of them.

The leather jacket that Lucius invented is quite genius. He created something called microfabric. Microfabric isn't really fabric, but is made to look, feel and act like it. Lucius cut a large patch out of the back of my leather jacket and put microfabric in its place. The microfabric instantly looked like the leather around it, taking its texture and color. When I put the jacket on and open my wings, the microfabric instantly shifts and allows my wings to come though the back of the jacket.

This prevents me from having to cut slits in the back of my jacket for my wings. It would look a little bit suspicious if I wore my jacket to work after prowling about the city as the Phantom and I had two gaping holes in the back of my jacket. People would either find me sketchy and suspicious or think I'm a lunatic. Either way, it would draw unnecessary attention to me that I don't want.

"Phantom, do you have anything to add to this meeting? Since apparently you know more about this than we do."

I could hear the dry sarcasm in Fury's voice. Of course he thinks that S.H.I.E.L.D. knows more about Corvus Vermont's past and personal life than I do.

"Anyone have paper and a pen?" I asked.

This seemed to take Fury by surprise, but he nodded to Agent Coulson who acquired the items I requested and placed them in front of me. As I sketched, I explained.

"The League has a group of the most elite and powerful, the people with the highest ranking. It's called the Inner Circle. The leader of the Inner Circle is no other than Corvus Vermont."

In the center of the paper, I sketched a skull with six squid-like legs coming from it and curling downwards, making it resemble an octopus. Above the skull was a triangle, pointing downwards. Three thick, dark, horizontal lines were in the triangle. The first was at the top and was the thickest line of the three, the second was in the middle, and the third was at the point, making a smaller triangle.

"This," I stated, turning the paper around so the rest of the room could see, "is the symbol for the League."

"The symbol underneath the triangle is the HYDRA symbol." Steve Rogers said.

"The League was originally a part of HYDRA. After HYDRA fell in the forties, a group split away and created the League. They kept the HYDRA symbol, but added their own, which is the triangle. Every member in the Inner Circle has to go through an initiation of sorts, where the triangle is branded on their left wrist. The left wrist was chosen because the symbol can be hidden beneath a watch."

Some people winced at the mention of branding something into your skin.

"So, what you're saying is don't trust people with watches?" Tony Stark intoned as the paper was passed around the room for everyone to look at. "Because they might be in a creepy brotherhood of blood thing."

At this, many people rolled their eyes.

"You do realize that you're wearing a watch, right?" Barton deadpanned, Romanoff smirking beside him.

Tony then preceded to move his watch to his right wrist.

"And how do we know that you aren't making this up? You have no proof." Vincent Crowe sneered at me. "For all we know, you could be lying to throw us off of the trail."

"And why would I do that?" I retorted. "I want innocent people to stop getting their souls ripped from their bodies. I want the League destroyed. I want Corvus Vermont dead. Why would I lie to a high-intelligence agency that has valuable resources that I can use to find Vermont and his colleagues?"

Crowe leaned back in his chair, eying me with disdain. "Why do I not trust someone who won't reveal her face and where she gets all of her information? Someone who is out to kill a man and won't tell us why."

"Agent Crowe, I believe that is enough. Please return to your other duties. You are dismissed." Fury ordered, emanating an air of indisputable power with just those words.

Crowe stiffly nodded and rose. As he passed me on his way out of the room, he hissed something low enough for only me to hear.

_ "This isn't over."_

_ Believe me, _I thought, _I never assumed it was._


	14. Chapter 13

[Quinn]

A brief and uncomfortable silence fell over the room the moment after Agent Crowe left. Steve fidgeted in his chair, and Dr. Banner nervously cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief.

"So...Fury...," Tony leaned back in his chair while casually twirling a ballpoint pen in his fingers. "Did you find anything on Phanty?" He nodded towards me, a curious glint in his eyes.

"Really, Stark? You couldn't think of anything better than Phanty?" Barton snorted.

Tony rolled his eyes. "That's not the point right now, Legolas. Fury?"

Fury nodded to Agent Hill, who then pulled something up on the screen.

"The death toll has been rising. At least one-hundred civilians are now dead, the cause of death unknown." A female newscaster who had bright, platinum blonde hair and who was clutching a stack of papers reported. The Fycon City News symbol was shown in the bottom right corner.

A male reporter wearing a gray suit and who had thinning brown hair was now shown on the screen.

"The death toll is now one hundred and thirty nine. Fifteen people have been reported dead in just these past two days. This morning, local police officers found a victim clutching a video camera and recovered the footage. This chilling video of the man's last moments is what they found."

A dimly lit alley at night was shown, the camera wobbling as you could hear the man's pounding footsteps and ragged breathing. A shriek from behind him made him spin around and nearly caused the camera to slip from his grasp. The camera caught a glimpse of a demon as the man screamed and dropped the camera, the lens cracking slightly as it hit the pavement.

A picture of the demon taken from the video popped up. The photo was blurry and dark, but the figure of the demon, hunched over with wings extended, mouth agape and claws drawn, was clear enough to partially make out what it was.

"Officials are still investigating into what this gruesome creature is, but until then all citizens are advised to stay indoors."

Another clip of a news report was shown, this time of the woman from before.

"Another three civilians were attacked and killed by a demon, as the monsters have become to be known as, last night. But this time, a man by the name of Jeffrey Wallas has the first tale of his survival from a demon."

A man in his late thirties or early forties was shown. He had auburn hair, a short beard, and wore a white t-shirt and black pants.

"Last night, my two daughters -they're nine and twelve years old- heard some noises coming from outside of the apartment we live in. We live on the bottom floor, close to where the dumpsters are kept, and my apartment's been known for having a raccoon problem. I went outside to check it out, and out of nowhere a demon attacked me and slammed me to a wall. I- It was the scariest thing I've ever experienced in my life. I really thought I was going to die. Then, out of nowhere, the demon screamed and died. It kind of turned into ash or something, I don't know. I looked up and this guy was standing there, wearing all black. I couldn't see his face. Before I had time to thank him for saving my life, he was gone, like a ghost or phantom of some sort. Wherever he is now, I just want to thank him. I owe him my life."

"Who is this mysterious man, and how did he kill the demon? The police department is still looking into this incident. All citizens are still advised to stay indoors at night." The newscaster said matter-of-factly while ruffling through some papers.

Fury turned away from the screen and faced the room. "There have also been many reports of mysterious muggings, drug busts, and criminals who have been found tied up in front of the police department." He sent me an accusing glare.

"Muggings?" I scoffed. "I may be a bad-ass vigilante who beats the shit out of criminals, but I don't mug people. Most of those are just fake reports filed by the Police Department that try to turn citizens against me."

Agent Romanoff cut into the conversation. "Let's get to the point. Fury, did you find anything else or not?"

"No." Fury admitted. "But Agent Crowe is working on finding more."

_ Crowe. _Something about that man sent all of my senses on high alert. I would have to be careful around him.

The doors opened and someone strode into the room, walking with an air of importance and grace.

"Fury, how nice to see you again." The man smiled, the white in his salt-and-pepper mustache and hair contrasting with his light brown skin. He wore a tweed, expensive looking suit with a plaid shirt and a tie.

"Mr. Nash, you're late." Fury commented.

Lucius Nash strode across the room to stand beside Fury and shook his hand. "I had some urgent business to attend to." He turned to the room and gave a nod to everyone, then his eyes slid over to me.

"Phantom." He acknowledged, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Lucius." I greeted, my voice a little less monotone. I hadn't seen him since he gave me my daggers, chips and jacket. I was glad to see him, but there was no chance at all that we would be able to talk in private.

Fury's eyes slid in between us in slight disbelief.

"You two are friendly?" Steve Rogers asked, slightly bewildered.

"I made Quinn her daggers, which I've heard she's been putting to good use against the demons."

"Or rather, not heard." Barton muttered. I could tell he and Romanoff were slightly miffed that no real information was found on me. I could understand why though, since they were master assassins and spies and were used to easily getting all of the information they needed about their target.

"S.H.I.E.L.D hired Mr. Nash to make all of you your weapons. They would have been made sooner than this, but it was rather difficult to get someone to accept." Fury explained. "Stark, Banner, you two are going to help him with designing and making the weapons."

Banner nodded and Tony smiled and cracked his knuckles. "When can we begin?"

"Right now, if you'd like. I slept on the plane ride here." Lucius said.

Tony and Bruce stood, both shaking Lucius's hand before they left the room.

"I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Nash. I think this project will be fun." Tony's voice trailed off as the three walked further down the hallway.

"Phantom, I'm putting you back into the fighting arena, if you're not too tired."

I snorted. Of course Fury knew that I wouldn't turn down a fight. It wasn't like I was actually going to get any sleep if I had the chance. I usually avoid the nightmares by going as long as possible without sleeping, usually distracting myself with street fights and killing demons.

"That goes for everyone else, too. You'll meet Coulson down there in fifteen minutes, who'll explain everything." Fury stalked towards the door and pushed it open with one hand, then turned over his shoulder.

"Let's see how good you are compared to Hawkeye, Phantom." He called.

Barton's eyebrows rose and he sent a glance over towards me, as did everyone else. Romanoff was slightly smirking, already knowing that her partner would be the victor.

I could clearly read the look on everyone's faces. _I didn't have a chance_. Well, I really hoped that they were wrong. Apparently Hawkeye was very good, based on the silent respect the rest of the agents in S.H.I.E.L.D gave him.

"This shall prove to be quite interesting." Thor mused.

There was a silent agreement between all of the Avengers.

[A/N]: Sorry this is so late and that this chapter is short! I've been trying to write guys, I really have, but I started school at the beginning of August and you can't believe the amount of homework I get. After I finish my homework I usually read and then go to bed. Since it's Labor Day weekend I should be able to get at least one more chapter out, maybe two. Thanks for reading this! Comments and votes are appreciated! Oh, and Lucius Nash is based off of Lucius Fox from Batman. This story is also posted on Wattpad, and on Wattpad I actually used his name Lucius Fox and Wayne Enterprises, etc. But I didn't know if putting a Batman character in here, even though he isn't that essential to the story, would qualify Vengeance as a crossover, which it really isn't. I just really wanted to put Lucius Fox in here because he's played by Morgan Freeman and it was a perfect opportunity to explain how Quinn got her daggers. Well, rant over! Thanks for reading! Reviews and follows are greatly appreciated!


	15. Chapter 14

[Clint Barton- Hawkeye]

I watched as everyone exited the room. Coulson, Thor and Steve walked out the door with Quinn and Hill strode towards the direction Fury went in, leaving Natasha and I in the room alone.

"Why do you think Fury paired you to fight with her? I thought he was done testing her." Natasha commented, standing.

"I honestly don't know. But I do understand why he wants to discover her identity so badly. It's driving him crazy that they have nothing on her. He said that he had some clues, but they didn't add up and led to dead ends."

Natasha gave me a serious look, locking her blue-green eyes with mine.

"What do you think about her?"

That was a good question. I honestly wasn't sure what I thought about her. She was dangerous, mysterious, a threat, but I could tell she was against the League and honestly wanted to stop it. But I was still unsure about the reasons why she thought it was her job to stop Vermont.

"I- well, of course I don't trust her. She's a threat; nobody knows who she is and where she came from. There's stories of how she just appears out of thin air, and then disappears. Stories about people meeting her in dark alleys, but not remembering what happens next and how they ended up beaten up and bleeding. But..."

"You can see the good in her. I can too, but I don't know why. She has that dark aura about her, of death and smoldering anger, but I can still get the sense that she isn't evil. Almost like she's avenging something." Nat admitted softly.

I didn't have to say anything to let Natasha know that I agreed, there was a silent language between us that had developed over years of us being partners. We understood each other better than anyone.

We started walking towards the training arena in companionable silence, side by side, each lost in our own thoughts. Agents that passed us gave us nods of respect as they carried on with their various duties.

"She's young. But gives the impression that she's seen much more in her life that most people should ever see." Natasha muttered, her face set in stone but her eyes a bit glazed over. I could tell what she was thinking about.

"Reminds me of someone I met on a mission once. I had my arrow locked over her heart, but at the last second decided to follow my instincts, not my mind. Look how that turned out." I gave Nat a look, a soft smile on my face.

"You got the best damn partner you've ever had." A smile was twitching at the corners of her lips, but she was trying to suppress it.

We reached the doors of the training arena and stepped in, finding everyone else waiting for us.

"You two finally decided to come down here?" Coulson commented flippantly as he casually flicked away at a tablet in his hands.

"Everyone else's just early." I replied, walking over and joining everyone else, who then turned and watched Coulson expectantly.

Coulson put the tablet away and faced the room. "I assume Fury already told you about the specialized weapons we have for training. They will bruise, but aren't lethal and they stick to the person it hits. Once the system registers the hit as a lethal or debilitating one, the winner will be announced. Questions?"

When no one answered, he gave a nod of approval. "Good. Phantom, Hawk, you can go to the observation room and choose your weapons. Leave any weapons you currently have on you on the table in there. Everyone else, you will observe through the windows, but there won't be much to see. Fury has ordered that the lights will be turned off during the round."

I could tell that Phil Coulson was almost smiling. Apparently he, too, had heard the rumors about the Phantom.

Damn you, Fury! I growled in my mind. Of course he would level out the playing field, which would assure that I wouldn't put an arrow through Quinn's heart the second the round began. I wasn't worried about not being able to see, my hearing was excellent. I was worried about the Phantom and her tendency to be downright lethal in the dark, when she's at her element. It unnerved me that I didn't even know she was there in the warehouse, that she was like her namesake and didn't even make a sound.

Everyone made their way towards the observation room, where Quinn placed her daggers and other concealed weapons on the table as I put down my gun that was issued to all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and a few other various weapons I had on my persona. Running my fingers over the smooth shafts of the selections of bows, I settled on a black, sleek bow that resembled mine and picked up a handful of arrows which I put into the arrow quiver on my back.

The Phantom chose a pair of light weight daggers and slid them into her dagger belt. They were blunt, the ends smooth and straight, but that didn't mean I wanted one to hit me.

As Quinn and I made our way to the training floor, Stark and Banner entered the room.

"Lucius had to take an important business call, and I heard that a little showdown between Legolas and Tinkerbell was going to happen, so Bruce and I came to watch." Tony sat down in a chair next to Cap, his feet leaning against the glass of the window. Bruce sat beside him, looking curious as to how the fight was going to go.

"Tinkerbell?" Quinn asked dryly.

"Only because you're so happy and sparkly." Tony replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Friend Tony, then what shall we call you? Gentleman Stark due to your politeness and tact?" Thor laughed.

Tony just sent Thor a glare. "Thanks, Shorty."

"Right. You two ready to begin?" Coulson interrupted, typing something away at a control panel.

Quinn and I both nodded, making our way towards the arena. On my way out the door, my eyes connected with Natasha's.

_Be careful._ Her gaze warned me.

_I'll try._ I sent back.

[Quinn]

Hawkeye and I stepped into the large, concrete and metal room, the door sliding shut behind us. Coulson's voice rang from hidden speakers in the walls.

"The system is booting up. Once it starts, you'll have five seconds to get ready. Get into position by facing each other in the center of the room. Good luck, and Clint, please don't aim for the Phantom's eye. Those arrows can still blind people."

Clint subtly rolled his eyes and muttered, "Thanks, Phil. Not an idiot."

He faced me, a determined look on his face. I smirked slightly, and though he didn't show it, I could tell that it annoyed him a little bit.

"Contestant One: Hawkeye. Contestant Two: Phantom." The metallic voice of a woman spoke, the voice echoing around the room. The lights dimmed and the one-way glass of the observation room became darker, preventing us from seeing inside the room.

"You have five seconds." The lights in the room flickered out one by one, leaving an extremely dim light in the center, only bright enough to faintly illuminate our figures.

"Begin."

I melted into the darkness and pulled out my daggers, watching as Hawkeye drew his bow and notched and arrow onto the string, scanning the area around him.

Extending my wings, I flew around him until I landed behind him. Hawkeye now had his eyes closed so he could focus on sounds around him, determining that staring into the inky blackness surrounding him wasn't going to help him pinpoint my location.

I circled the room again, making sure to let my foot slightly scrape the side of the wall as I passed. In an instant, Hawkeye turned and had struck and arrow where my foot was a second ago.

"Miss: Hawkeye." The voice of the program spoke. It was a miss, but a very close one at that.

"He has good aim, and very good hearing." I thought, observing him as he turned around slowly in a circle, listening for me.

Time to play. I thought, circling around him once more. I could tell he felt a slight gust of air from my wings because he tensed and looked around him, slightly confused.

_Thud!_ An arrow hit the wall, a few feet to my left.

"Miss: Hawkeye."

I floated above him in the air and with a hard down stroke of my wings, brushed him with a cool breeze of air, then quickly twirled to the side to avoid being hit by the inevitable arrow.

"Miss: Hawkeye."

Barton looked slightly frustrated, his expressionless face cracking a little bit as his eyebrows scrunched together and his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, his eyes darting around him, scanning the opaque room.

A smirk slowly spread its way across his face, and he briskly trotted to a corner of the room, his figure no longer slightly illuminated by the faint beam of light in the center of the room.

So, he thinks that if he can't see me I can't see him. How wrong he is.

My vision let me clearly see him crouching in the dark, bow poised to strike, bowstring taut and drawn with an arrow notched and ready.

I guess I'll just have to give him something to hit, won't I? On second thought, why don't I also give everyone else a little surprise?

[Steve Rogers]

I watched in shock as Clint missed his third shot in a row. Hawkeye never missed. Never. I couldn't see my teammate's reactions because we were all glued to the window, watching the round intensely as Hawkeye attempted to hit the Phantom, who hadn't been seen or heard since the round began.

It was like observing a game of cat and mouse, except the mouse is evading the grasp of the predatory cat and you have a strange feeling the mouse isn't the one who's going to end up in the trap.

Clint, still with his arrow notched and bow at the ready, retreated into a corner of the room, effectively hiding him from sight. A trap to lure the Phantom into the open and stop her game.

My eyes strained to see into the darkness, and then a faint hooded figure suddenly appeared in the center of the room soundlessly, like a ghost.

There was the sharp, unmistakeable snap of the string of the bow being released, the blur of an arrow flying towards its target.

_This is where it ends,_ I thought. _The mouse falls right into the trap, where it will be killed._

I almost didn't notice the flash of silver, skimming right by the arrow.

After a moment of thick, tense silence: "Hit: Hawkeye."

Then, barely a second later, "Hit: Phantom."

The lights slowly turned back on, revealing a shocked Hawkeye with a dagger sticking to his chest, the end of it now blinking with a red light. I followed his line of sight, to see the Phantom holding the flat blade of one of her daggers over her heart, where an arrow was sticking, also blinking.

But that wasn't what he was staring at.

I slowly stood, not noticing that the rest of my team mates were already on their feet, also staring in blank surprise.

My gaze travelled upwards to the soft ringlets of raven black hair spilling over her shoulders, the slender neck, defined yet soft jawline, high cheekbones, straight nose, and porcelain skin.

The Phantom had taken her hood off. And she was...gorgeous. Perfect.

"Correction. Miss: Hawkeye." The cool, clipped tone of the computer announced, but no one payed it any mind.

A small smirk graced Quinn's pale, full lips. "I believe I win."

She turned to fully face the window of the observation room, which she could now see through. The breath caught in my throat as our gazes locked, held in place by an invisible force.

For the first time, silver met blue.

And I was breathless.


	16. Chapter 15

[Quinn]  
Stunned silence permeated the room and hung there, cloaking everyone like a thick, woolen blanket. Clint stared at me, bewildered and shocked. He had now noticed the arrow sticking to my dagger, and his eyes flicked between my face and the arrow.

I turned to the window, reveling in the astonished look Barton now had, wanting to see what the rest of the teams' expressions were.

My eyes locked with those of Captain America. Blue, so deep it pulled me in, captured me, locked my gaze with his.

_Almost bluer than Sophia's had been._

With a sharp intake of breath, I broke our eye contact with each other, looking away like nothing had happened. _What the hell was that, Quinn?_ I scolded myself. _Focus!_

The door to the observation room opened, and the rest of the Avengers and Coulson filtered into the arena. The only ones who didn't looked extremely shocked were Romanoff and Coulson, the former with her trademark stoic expression and the latter still looking as casual and mild as possible, like this kind of thing happened all of the time in his line of work. Maybe it did.

"So, it seems that you won the round." Coulson commented nonchalantly, tapping away at the tablet in his hands.

"Never mind the fact that the Phantom just spontaneously took off her hood, and revealed her face for the very first time." Tony remarked, having gotten over his shock and was now back to his sarcastic self. "You're more fun than I thought you would be." He said, roguishly winking.

"You- I heard-" Clint stuttered for a second, trying to find the words to express what he wanted to say. "Are you a mutant?" He asked me pointblank.

"What is this 'mutant' you speak of, Sir Barton?" Thor inquired.

"Someone who was born with a natural genetic mutation that gives them special powers; for example, the members of the X-Men." Coulson informed.

"Thank you, Son of Coul." Thor said to the agent, then he turned to me. "Are you indeed, in fact, a 'mutant' like Clint believes?"

"What would make you think that?" I asked Agent Barton, raising an eyebrow and twirling a dagger in my fingers. Dang it, he must have heard my wings.

"Well," he began, a slight accusatory note in his voice, "I heard a rustling, and then I was hit by a gust of air. One moment you were in front of me, the next behind me. No normal person can move that fast."

Everyone's focus was on me now, waiting for my answer. Stark's eyebrows were raised slightly and there was a knowing glint in his eye, as if he had figured something out.

I quietly sighed to myself. Yes, I knew that sometime I was going to have to show them my face. If I hadn't, Fury definitely would've found a way to make me take off my hood or kept bugging me until I did. At least it would keep him off of my trail for a little bit, distract him from finding out the complete truth about me. Even though I had hoped to postpone the revealing of my wings, it had to happen sometime.

I had resigned myself to the fact that I had to at least cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D for a little bit until I could get some information about my father. The truth was I had hit a wall in my investigating, and there were so many demons prowling the city these nights that I had no time to interrogate someone, knowing that if I wasted even a second of my time it would result in the death of an innocent person and the strengthening of whatever plans Corvus had for the Irritum Animam, which he wasn't going to store in a closet like some toy he didn't want to play with anymore.

"I'm guessing that Fury's watching this?" I chuckled dryly, eyeing several hidden cameras tucked in the corners of the room.

"Actually, yes. He has been the whole time." Coulson stated, not wasting any time with a useless lie. At least he was honest, even about unhonest things.

"Well, then I better not keep him waiting." My eyes slid around the room before I spoke again, taking in the expectant faces. "No, I'm not a mutant. But I'm not normal, so I don't really know what I am."

"Then let's see them." Tony interjected, an excited and curious gleam in his dark brown eyes. So, Tony Stark the genius had put the pieces together and had figured it out. I was honestly surprised he hadn't said anything the second he'd realized it.

"Them?" Thor boomed, confused.

Slightly smirking, I opened my wings, feeling the muscles in my back expand as they extended, the smooth, dark feathers gleaming.

There was an air of awe that hung in the room as everyone took in the sight of my wings, which weren't open all of the way but enough to be hanging several feet from my sides. Tony slowly circled me, taking in every detail.

"Your jacket- how does that work? Your wings can go through it but the material instantly closes when you pull in your wings." Tony looked like an excited little kid at Christmas, who had just laid eyes on the present he had been hoping for all year long. "Another one of Lucius's designs, I'm guessing?"

I nodded, watching him warily as he still walked circles around me, quietly scrutinizing and gathering data.

"I suppose your wingspan is around ten feet when fully extended?" Dr. Banner asked me, observing me with eyes full of uninhibited wonder and interest.

"I've never measured, but that sounds about right."

"Your wings, are they always out and folded against your back?"

"No, they can go all the way into my back. Don't ask how, I'm not exactly sure."

My wings weren't always out and pressed tightly against my back- they actually retracted all the way into me, folding somewhere behind my shoulder blades. I had no idea how it worked; when my wings were all the way in all I could feel was the smooth skin of my back but still be able to feel the pressure of my wings behind my shoulder blades. Something I'll never understand fully, perhaps.

I was starting to feel uncomfortable under everyone's combined gazes; I was used to asking all of the questions and being unseen, not the one being interrogated and examined.

Thor seemed slightly confused and wonderstruck, but on the other hand Barton and Romanoff seemed almost unaffected, their trained, carefully blank expressions not cracking. Captain America looked as if he was still in shock, but his expression was slightly unreadable. Coulson's face hadn't changed at all, giving nothing away.

"You said you weren't a mutant, so what are you?" Romanoff asked, a hint of suspicion lacing her tone.

"Human. And no, I won't tell you how I got my wings." I replied curtly, knowing the question she was implying.

Coulson moved and pressed a hand to his ear, nodding and saying "Thank you, Jenkins." before turning to me. "I was just told that it was reported that Fury's heading this way, and he doesn't look too happy."

"Does he ever?" Tony wisecracked.

Director Fury stormed into the room, stalking to position himself in front of me.

"So, the Phantom finally decides to throw me a bone and show her face? Not to mention the sudden surprise." He paced around me slowly, his shoes clicking on the floor. "What I want to know is, why now? Why choose this moment?" Stopping, he looked me directly in my eyes, his stony glare demanding answers.

"You're trying to intimidate me." I stated, smirking. "Doesn't it frustrate you that it isn't working?"

Fury and I stood there in silence, each staring the other evenly in the eyes, unwavering.

"Tomorrow night there will be a gala held for city officials, meaning that the Fycon City Council will be attending. Vermont himself won't be in attendance, but Howard Krale, a council member and a suspected member of the League, will be there." The director announced to the room at large, but still kept his eyes trained on mine; a silent stare down.

"Two people are going to go undercover into the gala and find Krale to interrogate him. Originally, I was going to send in Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers, but since the Phantom has chosen such an opportune time to show her face, she and Cap will be our informants. More information will be given later."

I bristled, but I didn't show it, the battle of wits between me and the director of S.H.I.E.L.D still continuing. Fury's sending me to a _party? _His way of getting back at me, knowing that I prefer to do the whole stalk-and-interrogate-on-the-spot routine, not go undercover to get information. Maybe I could stay in the corner of the room and watch from there and not have to get involved in the middle of the party or interact with anyone.

With a smug glint in his eye and a slight smirk on his face, Fury strolled out of the room.

"It's formal wear only- so don't forget to dress up! Oh, and did I forget to mention that you two are going as dates? You may want to bring your dancing shoes!" He called over his shoulder mockingly.

Captain America and I both froze, him blushing slightly as we sent identical half-startled and half-horrified glances at each other.

I hate Fury.


	17. Chapter 16

[Steve Rogers]

Fury left us to our own devices for the rest of the morning, saying that he would brief the rest of us about the gala later. Tony and Bruce were in the lab with Lucius, inventing new weapons with the vibranium and sharing ideas while they worked. Romanoff and Barton went about their duties, doing whatever high security clearance agents of S.H.I.E.L.D did. Probably nothing I want to know about.

After gathering her weapons, the Phantom accompanied Thor and I to the mess hall to eat breakfast. To my relief, Quinn had put her hood back on, sparing me from her piercing, silver gaze.

We strode down to the mess hall without talking, the pressing silence upon us only broken by agents nodding, saluting, or greeting me respectfully. Sometimes I hated the red, white, and blue uniform I was wearing now. Just because I was Captain America didn't make me any different or cause me to do anything more important than all of the agents on the rest of this base. I knew many of them had done more important things than me, but weren't recognized for them to the public for the reasons of secrecy.

Thor seemed to be deep in thought about something as we walked, so I didn't bother him. By the look on his face, I could tell that his pained thoughts had wandered to those of his brother.

We arrived at the mess hall then continued to get a plate of food and sat at an empty table in the corner. I noticed that Quinn hadn't gotten much to eat again, just some scrambled eggs, toast, and a glass of water, but I didn't mention it.

Thor and I made small talk, mostly about Asgard and what had happened in the time since the Battle of New York, as it had come to be known. I told him about the rebuilding the city had started and the progress that had been made. The ground zero of the battle had yet to get back to where it was, but it was getting there. Shops had been reopened and repaired, and visitors had started to trickle in, many from other parts of the country who wanted to see where the battle had taken place. New York had started to get back on its feet, and I was proud to see the resilience in which the residents had to be able to cope with the shock of the event.

"Excuse me, Thor?" A male agent in his late thirties wearing the standard S.H.I.E.L.D. suit asked the god, face going slightly paler as Thor turned to him and the agent saw his bulking figure. I had to admit, even I was a bit intimidated by the big guy when we had first met.

"Yes?" Thor boomed in response.

"You have been requested by Agent Coulson to discuss some of your friends on earth, Miss Foster and Mr. Selvig, I believe?"

Thor nodded. "I shall see you later, Captain Rogers." He then followed the agent down the hallway, towering a good foot and a half over the poor, nervous man.

"Ah, look who it is. Just the people I was looking for." Said a voice from behind me. I turned to see Vincent Crowe, who was smiling tightly at Quinn and I.

"What the hell do you want, Crowe?" Quinn snapped coldly. I could tell that she and the Agent weren't big buddies, and I didn't blame her. I wasn't particularly fond of him either, something about him rubbed me the wrong way.

Crowe smoothly slid into the seat in front of us that Thor had just occupied, his smile looking more forced than before.

"So, I heard that the mysterious, elusive Phantom showed her face and revealed a little secret. Or, so a little birdy told me." He smirked, his fingers smoothly tapping the table. A few agents near us stopped their conversation, their curiosity piqued by Crowe's words.

So, he had heard about Quinn's wings. Of course he had, he was pretty high in command and was working on finding out who the Phantom really was by order of Fury.

"Really? I heard that if you don't leave in the next ten seconds, I may not be able to restrain myself from slitting your throat." Quinn replied evenly, not missing a beat.

Amused, a small smile spread across my face.

Vincent's smile faded and his jaw clenched, his eyes briefly flickering to the daggers hanging from Quinn's sides. "Fury wanted you both to know that he'll brief you about the little party you'll be attending before you head out to hunt demons tonight." He stood to leave then turned back, the sly smirk returning.

"I heard that you two will be having lots of fun at the party." he then left.

I really didn't like that man. Slightly peeved, I stood and turned to Quinn.

"If you want, we can go get changed and then I can show you the gym. There's lots of equipment we can use."

She nodded, also rising from her chair and throwing away her trash. "Good idea. For some reason, I'm in the mood to punch something."

That would make two of us.

[Quinn]

I grunted as I threw my body weight into the punch, hearing the satisfying slap of skin against the punching bag and the soft rattling of the chain the bag was hanging from. Keeping my arms close to my body, I twisted around and kicked the bag, causing it to swing.

Since I couldn't let my soul energy out for the fear of S.H.I.E.L.D locking me up for testing, this was the next best thing to using my energy. Well, close to the next best thing. When I want to blow off steam or when I can't sleep because of nightmares, I usually go out and find a street fight or a cage fight to vent some anger. Yeah, I know that it isn't the ideal anger management solution, but it's better than accidentally wiping out a building if I can't control my energy.

I had taken my jacket and hoodie off but left on my dagger belt, leaving me in a long sleeved gray t-shirt as I trained. My hair was pulled back in an unruly ponytail, a few strands of ebony hair sticking to my face as sweat started to bead my forehead.

Captain America stood about fifteen feet away, watching me. He had taken a break from his own punching bag a few minutes ago and now stood transfixed, observing me as I pounded the red punching bag in front of me.

I paused, taking a few breaths to cool myself down. I glanced up to see him looking at me.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve blinked, realizing that I had directed the question to him. "I was just thinking that when you punch, you turn your body a little bit to the left. If you kept yourself straight, you could put more power behind your punch." He explained, looking slightly sheepish.

He strode over and stood in front of the bag as I backed up a little, giving him room.

"Like this."

He hit the bag with his right fist, making it swing backwards and the chain holding it to the ceiling groan in protest.

"See?" He inquired, catching the bag as it moved back towards him.

I nodded, then did as he had shown me and hit it, my knuckles sore from punching it so many times before. As I drew my fist back to my side, I noticed the improvement in my punch.

"Thanks." I said while unwrapping the white cloth wound around my hands that protected my fists. I made sure not to make eye contact with him, not wanting to fall into them like I had last time.

"Anytime." He replied, also avoiding my gaze and looking slightly bashful.

At that moment Barton strode into the room, glancing around the room until he spotted us.

"Fury wants us to all meet in the weaponry in an hour and a half to look at the new weapons Fox designed and tell us about the mission." He informed us, then took in our sweaty states. "You may want to use that time to take a shower." He smirked, then left the room.

Steve nodded, taking off his boxing gloves and putting them back.

"Maybe we should take his advice." He chuckled.

We made our way to our rooms, walking through a sea of busy agents who didn't even spare us more than a glance, even though I had put my hoodie back on but left the hood down.

As we climbed onto the thankfully empty elevator and the doors slid shut, burning pain suddenly sliced through me, radiating from my core.

_Blood slowly dripped onto a concrete floor, running down my pale skin and staining it red. Cold, harsh laughter rang through my ears. I laid on a shiny, metal surgical table, the chrome surface icy against my skin as I struggled, the itchy, elastic straps holding me down, restraining me._

"Hey, are you alright?"

Steve's voice snapped me out of the flashback, pulling me back to the present. I stared straight ahead, ignoring the deep blue eyes filled with concern. It was then that I realized I was gripping the handle of one of my daggers so tightly my knuckles were white.

Slowly, I unwound my fingers and hung my hand by my side and resisted the urge to curl it into a fist, watching my movements in the slightly distorted reflection on the shiny, chrome door of the elevator.

I was spared from answering as the soft chime of the _ding! _that warned of the elevator door's opening rang through the tiny room. Moving quickly, I strode down the hall to my room, Steve trying to keep up from behind me.

"Quinn!" He called as I shut the door, effectively blocking him from speaking to me.

His soft footsteps halted outside of my room, hesitated for a moment to leave, then faded away as he entered his own room. I sighed, sliding down the door and onto the floor, my head in my hands as the pain started to fade.

That, the pain, was my soul ripping itself in two, an unexpected result of my father's experimentation with me. He had torn away a piece of my soul in order to stitch on the part of the raven's soul that had been attached to mine. Then, he had sewn the part of my soul onto his in an attempt to become immortal. He had the insane notion that if he died, he could still live by using the part of my soul that he glued to his.

What he didn't expect was that by doing so, my soul would attempt to reattach itself to the part it was missing, causing my soul to slowly separate itself from its other half, the soul of the raven.

He also didn't expect that my soul would still be connected to its missing half by a thin strand of energy that bound them, meaning that if I died, he died, and vice versa. Too bad that since my soul was destroying itself, I was dying. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

As if I didn't already have _enough_ problems.


	18. Chapter 17

[A/N] Sorry for the slightly late update! My weekend has been busier than I expected. :/ I promise that I'll really start to kick the plot off soon, I know you guys are getting bored. If you spot any typos or grammar mistakes, make sure to tell me. Well, onto chapter 17!

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[Quinn]

I stepped out of the shower and put a clean pair of black skinny jeans on, accompanied by another one of my gray hoodies and my leather jacket. My dagger belt was on under my jacket, and I had all of my usual weapons tucked away and hidden in various places in my jacket and clothes. I'll spare you the details.

Steam hung heavily in the air of the tiny bathroom, making it warm and humid. I glanced up, seeing my blurry reflection in the fog coated mirror. Slowly raising my hand, I wiped the steam from the mirror, my fingers gliding over the smooth, cool glass.

What I saw wasn't very surprising. Dark, heavy circles hung under my eyes, which were slightly sunken. My cheeks were faintly hollow, and my skin was extremely pale. I sighed. My health was failing. The strain on my body from my broken soul was starting to take a toll on me physically.

Holding out my palm, it ignited with silver energy that danced and ghosted across my skin, lightly twining through my fingertips. Then, the light flickered. It was so small that no one would be able to tell if they weren't carefully observing it, but I knew what I was looking for.

A few months ago, I had been healthy. Well, as healthy as I could get considering I was locked in a basement for a year and had yet to gather my full strength. Then, I noticed little flickers in my energy. Then came the pain. It was infrequent at first, usually only little flashes of pain. A little bit after, it turned into dragging seconds of agony. After that, my health had started to rapidly decline. Now, it was a small, constant reminder of what was happening, that my time was running out. The pain was always there, pushed to the back of my mind where I could almost forget about it. Almost. Two weeks ago, the moments of pure anguish started.

By my calculations, I didn't have much time left. A month, at most. That's why I decided to stay and cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D, knowing that my time was running out and I was so close to killing my father, to causing the down fall of the League and claiming my vengeance.

Sensing someone approaching my door, I walked out of the bathroom and into the main room. There was a soft, almost timid, knock on my door. "Hello? Quinn?" The voice of Captain America called. "It's time that we get going."

My heart jumped into my throat when I heard it was him. Wait, what was that? I was probably just nervous. I mean, who knows what would happen if Fury found out about my real identity and the rest of my powers. _Quinn, stop being so jumpy around these people._ I chastised myself. _Get in, get what you need from them, and get out. That's the plan. _

Quickly braiding my hair back, I pulled on my combat boots and flipped my hood up again, not wanting to raise anymore suspicions if someone happened to notice my failing health.

I opened the door by pressing a small button beside it, and the sleek, chrome doors slid open.

Steve stood there, in a casual outfit of jeans and a blue and white plaid shirt. His eyes flickered to my hood.

"Uh, it's time to go so we can get to the weaponry." he explained, already turning to leave.

I was thankful he didn't mention my hood, not in the mood to ignore questions I didn't want to answer.

We strode briskly down the hallways, neither of us attempting to make any conversation, which was fine by me. Finally, we reached what was assumedly the weaponry, yet another one of S.H.I.E.L.D's large rooms full of dangerous and sharp toys of all kinds.

The room was huge, with a shooting range off to one side and rows upon rows of weapons laying on shelves neatly lined against the concrete walls. Blades, bows, guns, and weapons of all kinds glinted in the harsh, fluorescent lighting, giving the room a nice, yellowish glow. All in all, the room gave you a nice, warm, fuzzy feeling. Not.

The rest of the team was already gathered, along with Coulson and Lucius, who were conversing pleasantly. When Steve and I entered the room, Tony glanced at me and saw that I had my hood up.

"Hey, Tinkerbell, why are you wearing your hood again? I know you like to maintain the dark-and-creepy persona, but you might want to tone it down a little bit before you're mistaken for the Grim Reaper."

Annoyed, I took it off and cocked my eyebrows. "Better?" I asked, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone.

"Yup. Sorry, didn't mean to ruffle your feathers." He smirked.

Steve, Bruce, Clint and Natasha all rolled their eyes. Once everyone settled down, Coulson turned to the room to address everyone.

"Today, you all will be testing the weapon prototypes made by Mr. Nash, Dr. Banner, and Stark. Except for Cap, who already has his shield, Quinn, who has her daggers and god-knows-what else," Coulson deadpanned, shooting me a look. "And also Natasha, who will be assisting Quinn in finding an appropriate outfit to wear to the mission. Cap, another agent will be helping you."

I wasn't too happy about the fact that I would be working with Romanoff but kept my face carefully blank, casually looking over to see that Romanoff felt the same as I did but was also keeping it hidden.

She gave Coulson a quick nod and motioned to the door, implying that I was to come with her.

"Follow me." The redhead demanded, already stalking out of the room. Grumbling mentally at the prospect of being ordered around, I followed her down the hallway until we reached a room a few floors up filled with women's dresses of all the sizes, colors, and styles you could possibly imagine.

The room was well lit and had wall to wall clothing racks filled with expensive material, ranging from silk to velvet and tulle. A small, black curtained changing room was off to the side. A tall mirror stood beside it.

"I've been on lots of these missions before." Natasha stated, already looking through the racks of gowns. She quickly looked at me, mentally calculated my size, and went back to browsing. "I actually met Tony on a mission. I was posing as his new personal assistant." She smirked.

"How did he react when he discovered you were an assassin?" I inquired casually, leaning against a wall.

"Let's just say he still can't tell when I'm acting." The agent replied. "Now. For your disguise you'll get a pair of contacts that change your eye color to green, so I'm thinking of a dress that will match your eyes. We can't have it extremely extravagant though, so as to not draw any extra attention. Any ideas?"

"Something with long sleeves?" I realized that if I was going to have to wear a dress, I was going to need to cover up the scars that trailed and crisscrossed my entire body, especially my arms. Nothing says 'not normal' like not even an inch of your body not being covered in pure white, slightly raised scars that labeled you as an immediate freakshow the second anyone saw them.

Natasha didn't comment, just nodded and strode around the room gathering a variety of dresses, all in different shades of green, and stacked them in her arms as she walked. Then, she hung the pile of gowns on an empty silver rack outside of the dressing room.

"We'll start here. Once we get your dress, we'll move on to shoes, then clutches and accessories, then makeup and hair." she stated.

Seeing my slightly horrified face, she chuckled. "We have a lot more to do. The dress is just the beginning."

My eyes lingered on the mountain of gowns she had lined up for me to try. I had the feeling she was going to make me try on all of them at least twice, if not three times.

This was going to take forever.


	19. Chapter 18

[A/N] So, I finally posted! D: Sorry this chapter is so late! School has been kicking my butt lately. I know that lately, all I've been writing is filler chapters, but that is due to change in the next chapter. Get ready for some action! Chapter 19 should be up very soon! This honestly isn't my best chapter and I don't like it very much, but the plot will thicken soon (*wringing of hands and a maniacal laugh* Mwa ha ha! :) ). As always, if you like this chapter please comment and vote. If you don't like this chapter, comment! I want feedback from you! :D

[Tony]  
"Well, I was thinking if we rewrote this equation here, which will therefore change the suspension of the hydraulics..." Bruce explained, scratching away at a random piece of paper.  
I nodded, agreeing as I quickly glanced over the schematics of the bow and arrows that were spread over the table. "Let's do it."  
We were in the lab, making the final modifications to the weapons Fury assigned us to make. God, I feel like I'm back in high school. I'm even in a group working on a project.  
"I was thinking that if you changed the angle a little bit here, it would make it move smoother." Lucius pointed to the arrow that was sitting on the desk he was working at. Which, admittedly, was a lot neater than mine. I quickly glanced down at my workspace that was strewn with papers, pencils, bags of half-eaten Doritos, a few M&M's scattered here and there, and Diet Coke cans that were randomly scattered across the smooth, gleaming metal surface.  
The Diet Coke cans were Pepper's fault. Apparently she thought that I 'drank too much' and that I should 'cut back on my alcohol consumption before I permanently damaged my liver'. Such a shame, too. I'm proud of the fact that by 50, I'll most likely have liver failure.  
I should probably clean that up. I noted, seeing that the rest of the room was only a fraction as messy as mine. Was I going to? Hell no. I'm not a maid, I'm a genius billionaire! I can pay a maid to do it for me, but seeing as there aren't any maids that I know of on the S.H.I.E.L.D base, I'll have to bribe an agent. On second thought, that probably wouldn't make Fury very happy. That means I'll do it anyways.  
"Tony. Tony? Tony!"  
"Hmm?" Looking up sharply at Bruce's voice, I saw that Lucius and Banner were both staring at me.  
"Didn't you hear me? We just finished." Bruce commented, stacking papers up neatly and putting them in a pile, then sliding them into an official looking folder labeled "30946270 Final Drafts"  
"Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked." I admitted, finding a random M&M and popping it into my mouth. "What color was that, blue? Orange, maybe. Green?" I commented as I chewed. I had a habit of attempting to guess the color of M&M I ate after I ate it. The only reason I do it is because It annoys Pepper. And I digress. Again.  
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Well, we have a few hours left before the mission." He leant back in his chair and took off his glasses, subconsciously cleaning them with a handkerchief.  
"I have about a half of an hour before I leave, so it would be best if I get going. Gentlemen." Lucius stood and shook each of our hands. "It was a pleasure to work with you. I hope that we can collaborate on other projects some day."  
"It was nice to work with you too, big guy." I slapped him on the back. "Let me know if you ever want to take me up on that offer of me letting you pop into my labs sometime. You would love it."  
"I may, if I have the time." Nash replied, a small smile on his face. He nodded to both of us. "Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner." and then left the room, moving with a gracefulness uncanny for someone his age.  
"So..." I spun lazily in my chair, crumpling up a random piece of scrap paper and aiming it for the waste basket in the corner of the room. The wad of scrunched paper teetered on the metal rim before falling in. "What do you think of the Phantom?"  
Bruce looked up, placing his spectacles on the desk in front of him. "I want to know how she got her wings. If her statement that she isn't a mutant is true, then where did they come from? It's puzzling." the doctor admitted.  
I nodded, agreeing. There wasn't a way I could think of that would possibly allow her to magically get wings after her birth. Wings don't just randomly sprout out of you one day. Unless she isn't human. I desperately hoped that the aforementioned theory wasn't the case. I had encountered enough aliens to last me a lifetime.  
"Her wings look similar to the wings of a bird, like a crow or a raven." I mused. "Maybe one of her parents was a mutant bird thing?"  
_ Raven. _I decided, thinking it over. Ravens had always seemed more graceful and smooth to me, with a spark of intelligence in their dark eyes. Crows just seemed too...ungainly and gawking to describe Quinn. They were always croaking and squawking, not laconic and carefully calculating but with an air of cool grace that the Phantom possessed.  
Bruce shot me an amused look. "That's highly unlikely, but since I became an Avenger, it's a possibility." He stated dryly. "Tony, did you know that ravens are seen as bad omens in many cultures? They stand for a symbol of death."  
"Bruce, please don't go all Edgar Allen Poe on me." I scoffed. "You've spent too much time in desolate villages in random corners of the world listening to voodoo stories told over a campfire. You know that superstition is fake."  
He continued on, ignoring my remark. "They're also a forewarning of war."  
There was a moment of silence, before I turned to face him. "Bruce, did you see her eyes? They're silver! Not gray, but silver! How is that possible? It can't be natural!"  
"I have no idea." He sighed. "But there's something strange about her, something she's keeping hidden."  
_ Really? And how long did it take you to figure that out, Sherlock? _I grumbled in my mind. I do have to admit, I find the Phantom interesting and slightly amusing. But I seem to have a little habit of being 'paranoid' as Bruce and the rest of the team calls it. I think I have a reason to be a tiny bit freaked out as to why Quinn has wings. Freaking _wings_. And she claims to not be a mutant. Then _what_ exactly is she?  
Hearing a soft knock on the door, we glanced up to see a man standing there, the typical brown haired, suit and earpiece wearing S.H.I.E.L.D agent. "Dr. Banner, Mr. Stark, Fury wants to gather you along with the rest of the team to discuss the mission. Captain Rogers and the Phantom have already been briefed. If you'll follow me."  
Sighing in annoyance, I stood from my chair and Bruce and I followed the agent to the briefing room, a scowl on my face as I walked. I hate meetings.  
[Steve]  
I sighed as I pulled on my Captain America suit, sick of changing clothes. I had tried on at least five suits, a plethora of bow ties, cuff links, and shoes before my undercover outfit had been decided.  
_ But,_ I mused, _it must have been worse for Quinn._ I couldn't even imagine being a dame and having to get all dressed up all of the time with all of the makeup, hair, and whatever else they did.  
Quinn didn't seem like the type of gal to be into all of that, considering the withering glare she had shot Fury when he had announced the mission we were going on. I guessed she was more into the 'find them in a dark alley and have a little chat' approach.  
I stepped out of the room, wielding my shield and leaving my mask inside of the room. There really was no point to wearing it, considering that the streets were mostly deserted these days because of the demons. There were always those people though, so naïve and cocky, that thought nothing bad would happen to them. Those were the people who made the easiest victims for the demons.

"Ready?" A silky voice said from behind me.

Turning, I saw the Phantom standing there, her dark outfit starkly contrasting with the light gray, concrete wall. Her hood was down and her dark hair braided back.

"Only if you are." I replied, making my way down the hall towards the airstrip where the helicopter was parked. Even though I couldn't hear her following me, I knew she was walking behind me. She was so silent and fluid when she walked, it was on the verge of unbelievable. She was called the Phantom for a reason.

We finally reached the helicopter, and I swiveled to face her.

"I'm guessing you'll be flying solo?" I yelled over the beating wind of the propellers.

She simply nodded and pulled her hood up. "Meet you at the rendezvous point?"

We would be in the city fighting demons until half past seven. Then, we'll return to base, quickly dress, get a ride to the party, and put the plan into action.

"Yeah." I answered, turning way from her to head towards the helicopter.

I wasn't looking forwards to the party. The fact that I had to bring a date, well, let's just say that I've never been the best at talking to women. Or socializing in general. I left all of that to my best friend, Bucky. If only he were here to see my predicament now.

Snapping out of my reverie, I turned back to glance at Quinn to make sure she knew what time we were supposed to meet, but she was already gone.

_ How the hell does she do that?_ I grumbled to myself as I climbed into the helicopter and the door was shut. Sighing, I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, trying to ward off my nervousness and apprehension at the approaching mission at hand. Every time I imagined having to actually act like Quinn and I were happy dates or having to dance with her, butterflies erupted in my stomach.

_ Calm down, Steve, you can do this._ I thought to myself._ You won't trip on your own feet when you attempt to dance, and no one will recognize you from the Battle of New York._ Who was I kidding? I would probably blow the entire mission and our covers. Admittedly, I found myself less worried about the latter and more concerned with the former predicament.

Did I mention that I was bad with women?


	20. Chapter 19

[A/N] As always, follow if you like it, review if you have an opinion, a praise or critique. I want feedback either way! If you see a mistake in spelling or grammar, please tell me. Also, if you like this book please share it with others! I want to hear what a lot of people think, because feedback is what lets writers know what they need to change or add. A big thank you goes out to everyone who reads Vengeance!

* * *

[Quinn]

My stomach flipped as I dove through the crisp, winter air, reveling in the air rippling through my glossy, ebony feathers and whipping the loose strands of my dark hair across my face. I had taken my hood off once I was high enough in the air, dodging through thin, vapory clouds that danced and swirled around the full moon, thinly misting me in freezing water droplets.

Lazily gliding through the air, I glanced down to see the helicopter below me and a little bit ahead of me, its propellers slicing through the air with ease. I swooped higher, surfacing through a layer of clouds before New York City came into view, a mass of twinkling lights that studded the dark landscape. The faint echoes of cars and people were absent, replaced by an eerie silence. The city that never slept was in hiding in a desperate attempt to protect itself from the creatures that had suddenly invaded, striking quickly and leaving so many dead.

There were still those few, ignorant people who were naïve to think that nothing would happen to them if they wandered the streets at night instead of finding shelter. Those were the people that made my job harder and easier at the same time. Harder because if they died, I knew it was my fault. One more innocent, murdered person to add to my long list of guilt. The benefit of those reckless people was that they could lure some of the demons out and make them easier targets for me.

A voice crackled through my earpiece as I landed on a rooftop, pressing my wings to my back so they made less noise.

"I've just landed. You want to meet at the same spot as last time?" Captain America asked.

"Yeah." Sensing movement to my left, I slowly turned as I pulled out a dagger. A shriek tore through the still air as a blur sped towards me, razor sharp teeth and claws gleaming. With a flick of my wrist, the demon fell, howling, as my dagger imbedded into its heart. A second later the monster turned into ash and I bent down to pick up my dagger.

"One." I said, a slight smirk on my lips.

There was a crackle over my earpiece and the metallic thud of Captain America's shield making contact with flesh, followed by n inhuman screech.

"Me too." He reported. There was the scraping of his shield against concrete as he picked it up again. "Why don't we see who can kill the most demons by the time we have to meet at the rendezvous point?"

"Game on. Just don't be too disappointed when you lose." I said, spreading my wings and jumping from the edge of the building, landing silently on the ground.

"The same goes for you." He replied as I stalked down the alley, melting into the shadows.

"We'll see about that." There was a pause in the banter as I threw my dagger, hitting a demon squarely in the chest. I retrieved my blade and continued down the dim, dank alley, casting glances over my shoulder as I sensed the area for movement. "Two. You're falling behind, Captain. Pick up the pace."

There was a soft chuckle. "Now I'm starting to wonder what I got myself into."

"That's the spirit."

[Steve Rogers]

I placed my shield beside me and leaned back in my seat as the helicopter took off. My shoulder slightly ached from throwing my shield so much, but with my super fast healing I expected it to go away in five minutes or so.

The Phantom sat across from me, cleaning her daggers from the black dust and dark blood the demons left behind when they died. I didn't expect her to ride back in the helicopter, with her wings and all, but surprisingly she had given me a slight nod when I'd asked her if she wanted a ride back and had climbed into the helicopter without a word.

"Thirty three." I said, looking at her. I took my earpiece off and set it on the leather seat beside me.

She glanced up for a second, her silver eyes skirting mine before they slid back down to watch her pale fingers wipe the glinting blades down with a rag.

A slight smirk twitched at the corner of her mouth, the only real display of emotion the Phantom had ever shown. I was starting to think all she could do was look deadly and glare or have a tiny, elusive smirk spread across her pale lips.

"Fifty one." She replied.

"How in the world?" I gaped incredulously.

"There were more than usual tonight, which is slightly worrying." She shrugged, stuffing the grimy rag into a pocket of her jacket and sliding her daggers back into her belt.

I didn't have time to ask more as the helicopter touched down and the door was flung open. We were rushed in separate directions to get cleaned up and changed.

I quickly washed up and put on my simple black tux and white shirt, then combed my hair, tied my shiny, black shoes, and did my bow tie. After I was finished, an agent handed me a tiny earpiece, fake ID and an invitation along with a folder that contained information about by alias . I nodded my thanks and stepped into the hallway, glancing at the ID before opening the folder.

_Right. So, let's see here...my name is George Donald Truman._ I thought as I looked through the information. I had already seen the information earlier in a briefing but I didn't have time to memorize the details. I am thirty years old, a businessman that sells doorknobs for the (fake, I presume) business Truman & Co., and I made my fortune in the stock market. My parents are retired and live in Miami, Florida, and I have no siblings. My fiancé is..._wait, what?_

I paused, staring at the word fiancé. I had to pretend that Quinn and I were engaged? How could I do that when I knew nothing about her? Heck, I can barely even talk to her. My back leaned against the cool wall as I realized that last statement wasn't true. Surprisingly, I could actually have a short conversation with her without the usual stuttering or stretches of awkward, uncomfortable silences. Maybe those days were in the past, before the Super Soldier Serum and Captain America.

Sighing, I looked back down at the folder, flipping through the neatly stacked and stapled papers. _Quinn's name is Kathleen Elizabeth O'Donnell. _I forced myself to focus as my attention wandered. I doubted that anyone would actually notice us in the crowd of people, never mind talk to us.

"How's it going, Georgie?"

I glanced up to see Stark strolling down the hallway towards me, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Fine, just learning my life. You?" I said flippantly.

"Bored, nothing to do since Bruce and I've finished the weapon designs." He leaned against the wall next to me, head tilted to the side as he read the papers.

"Oh, hey, Legolas! Nat!" Tony called, seeing the assassins down the hall.

"About to go on your mission, Cap?" Natasha asked, strolling up.

"I don't see how you two can remember all of this and then become a different person." I admitted.

Clint shrugged. "Years of practice. I'm at the point now where I have to make sure I don't mix up the aliases I've used in the past with the one I'm using. This one time..." He trailed off as his eyes locked on something behind me, his mouth slightly open in shock.

Turning, I felt myself freeze in the same surprise, but thankfully some part of my brain kept my jaw from dropping.

Heels softly clicked against the tile floor, a quiet, steady rhythm as Quinn glided down the hallway. My eyes slowly traveled up from the nude colored heels to the emerald green, silk gown that swirled around her as she walked. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant gown with sleeves that draped down to her elbows and then tapered off. The dress ghosted the floor and a long slit ran up her left leg, displaying the pale, porcelain skin of her leg. The silk hugged her frame perfectly, tastefully showing her figure and slim waist.

My eyes wandered up, past her collarbone which was decorated with a simple silver necklace, and up to her face. For the most part, her makeup was natural looking yet feminine, with a hint of pink on her lips and her eyelids were lightly dusted with gold, bringing out her eyes which were now a dark green.

Strands of dark, ebony hair framed her face, he rest of it pulled back into an elaborate up do and diamond earrings dangled from her ears. All in all, she was stunning and graceful, yet seemed to still emit an aura of darkness and careful observation of her surroundings as if she were ready to fight at any moment.

An agent handed her a file and she flipped through it as she strode towards us. I mentally scolded myself and forced myself to stop ogling her and cleared my throat slightly when she reached us.

Tony let out a low, long whistle. "Damn it, if I was ten years younger." He muttered, obviously looking Quinn up and down. Natasha and I both sent him a slight glare of warning.

"Careful Stark, I can still have you against that wall with a knife to your throat in a heartbeat." Quinn stated casually as she looked through her file.

"Was that supposed to be a turn on? Because it worked." Tony smirked roguishly.

In a blink and with a flash of emerald silk and a flick of Quinn's wrist, a small knife embedded itself into the wall next to Tony's head, my hearing able to pick up the slight wavering of the blade in the air as it shook from the impact.

Quinn went back to flipping the pages of the file as if nothing had happened. I noticed that thin, white gloves ran from her long fingers to her elbow as she rifled through another page.

"You like to throw sharp knives that can cut through me like butter. Right." Tony remarked, slightly gulping as he dislodged the knife from the wall and held it out to her. "Where the hell did you get this, anyway?" he asked incredulously, eying the dress. "Have you been hanging out with Natasha?"

I glanced away, my cheeks faintly warm from a touch of a blush as Quinn took the knife and slid it into a strap fastened high on her leg.

"Captain and Phantom, it's time to depart." An agent said, walking up to us. We both nodded and started walking to the garage, where a limousine was parked to take us to the party. I glanced back nervously at my teammates, who all had similar expressions of amusement as they took in my anxious look.

Tony smirked and called after us, "Have fun, you two, but not too much fun! I expect you back by midnight, and no exceptions to the curfew! Be safe!" He fussed like a slightly overbearing parent, a knowing glint in his eyes as he watched us leave.

"This should be an interesting night." Quinn muttered.

I agree completely.


	21. Chapter 20

[Steve]

The soft murmuring of guests mixed with the quiet harmonies of a string quartet echoed from inside of the stately hotel as the sleek limousine smoothly glided under the deep sapphire blue of the pavilion. Gold letters embroidered on the fabric flapping slightly in a frigid breeze read _L'hôtel Cigogne_

"The Stork Hotel." Quinn mused. "They paid for this event with money that was supposed to go towards keeping the city clean." She stated, a hint of disgust in her tone.

"You speak French?" I asked, not even bothering to question how she knew what money went towards which event.

"Oui. Bien que je n'ai pas parlé depuis un moment, je suis encore assez couramment." She said as our limo inched towards the doors, the driver being directed by a valet.

"I'm taking that as a yes." I replied, only understanding fragments of what she said. "I used to know a couple of people who spoke French when I was in the war, so I picked a little bit up. Mind you, they were mostly curse words."

"I can only imagine." She smirked.

The limousine came to a stop, and I turned to her. My mood had slightly dampened with the thought of my comrades back when I was fighting HYDRA in World War II, but it quickly dissipated.

"Are you ready? Make sure to keep your earpiece on." I reminded as I pressed the tiny, inconspicuous silver dot on the inside of my ear, turning it on. Thankfully, SHIELD had programmed it to only play what others connected to your earpiece were saying when they were out of hearing distance so a little voice in your ear wouldn't be repeating the same thing the person beside you was saying. Another technological marvel I hadn't even expected to exist.

She did the same and nodded to me. "I'll open the door for you." I said, climbing out of the car and smoothing my tuxedo before making my way over to the side of the car.

I pulled open the door and offered my hand to help her out. Her gloved hand closed around mine, surprisingly warm as I assisted her out of the car and closed the door behind us with a click. The agent driving gave a nod to me before pulling away. As soon as she was standing steadily on the pavement she dropped my hand, leaving a faint, warm remembrance of its presence.

Remembering my manners, I held out my arm for her to take. "Kathleen." I said, a small smile on my face.

"My dear George." The corners of her lips slightly twitched upwards as she clung to my proffered arm and we began striding into the hotel, a doorman holding open the gleaming glass and bronze doors for us. Our feet echoed against the impeccable, white, marble tile swirled with black and gray as I escorted her through the entrance. I noticed that Quinn must have been purposefully walking louder than she usually does to act more like a normal party attendee.

"You have the invitations?" She asked as we walked across the lobby and towards the ballroom that S.H.I.E.L.D. had shown us on the blueprints of the hotel.

"In my pocket." I answered.

She nodded and then mumbled quieter, "I really don't like this mission. I hate parties like this."

I didn't have time to ask her why as we rounded the corner, coming to the doors of the ballroom and face to face with two hotel employees dressed in wrinkle free, white suits with black ties.

"Oh, George, really." A tinkling laugh came from beside me and I was almost caught off guard as Quinn smiled, pushing me lightly as if I had just told a joke. Smiling and going along with it, I laughed too, glancing down at her grinning face and my heart skipped a beat, which I ignored.

To anyone else, she would seem like a happy and perfectly normal woman, but I quickly saw through her forced laugh and cheerful mask. I have to say, though, that she was good. It made me wonder if she had done this before, seeing how easily she was able to put up a happy façade.

_ I wonder what she would look like if she was really smiling? _I mused to myself. _Even when she's faking it, she's still beautiful._ Glancing up, I noticed we were approaching the employees and I chastised myself for being distracted. I needed to keep my mind on the mission at hand.

Without missing a beat, I pulled the cream invitations with gold embellished font out of my tuxedo pocket, holding it up for the workers. They simply nodded and let us pass into the expansive ballroom, its marble floors and pillars gleaming and the room was strewn with sapphire tapestries.

"We're looking for Howard Krale." Quinn muttered, a smile still plastered on her face. We both silently surveyed the room, a sea of neatly pressed, designer tuxedos and lavish gowns. In the corner of the room on a small stage, a quartet consisting of a violin, cello, bass, and viola played; the general chatter and laughter of guests mingling and the clinking of crystal glasses mixed with the soothing, classical music.

"Why haven't I had the pleasure to be introduced to this enchanting young lady?" A voice rang from beside us. Turning, we saw a man stride up to us, dressed in an expensive, dark navy suit and carrying a glass of champagne. He was slim and lean with dark brown hair and a handsome, clean shaven face,

"Kathleen O'Donnell." Quinn introduced herself, delicately extending her hand which the man took and kissed lightly. "And this is my fiancé, George Truman."

The man nodded dismissively to me before turning back to her. "Fiancé? What a shame! Why are all of the gorgeous women around here already taken?" He asked jokingly in a stricken expression which quickly melted away as Quinn laughed lightly and I forced a small smile on my face, for some reason annoyed with the man in front of me.

"My name is Edward J. Poole." He extended his hand for me to shake, which I did politely, gripping it tightly.

"Nice to meet you." I told him as we both dropped our hands to our sides.

"Likewise." He answered. He turned as a voice from across the room called, "Poole!" and a man standing with a group of people motioned for him to join the small gathering, his hand waving.

"Ah, that's my cue for my departure." With a warm smile to Quinn, he said, "If your fiancé doesn't mind, I would like to have a dance with you later." He winked.

"I'll see what I can do." She replied, smiling, but with a glance at her I could tell that was the last thing she wanted to do.

As Poole strode towards his posse of friends, Quinn led me across the floor to a corner surrounded by tall, glass windows and partly shrouded from view by a large. leafy potted plant.

"Edward Poole is a high end lawyer and a friend of Krale." She reported.

As we talked a waiter approached us and offered us a glass of champagne, which Quinn politely accepted, closing her fingers around the stem of the glass delicately as I did the same. She dropped my arm as she held the glass of clear liquid and looked around the room. Even though she took one, she didn't drink it.

"It's best if we get one now so we won't be bothered again." She explained, eying the drink slightly distastefully.

"You don't drink?" I asked, a bit surprised as I took a small sip.

She shook her head no. "No, and I don't think I ever will." Her eyes glanced around the gala, taking in faces as she inconspicuously searched for Krale. "I've seen what it can do to people." A bitter note laced her voice.

I wasn't able to press further as the music came to a halt and an older man with a microphone stepped onto the stage,

"Welcome to the tenth annual Winter's Gathering hosted by our city council!" He cheerfully said, pausing for the attendees' applause The man, I didn't catch his name, went into a long winded speech that I didn't bother paying attention to, downing the rest of my drink for nothing better to do as my eyes wandered the crowd, searching for the face of Krale but to no avail in the room full of party goers.

Eventually, the man stepped off of the stage and the music started up again.

"I can't find him." Quinn said quietly. "We need a better point to look from, I can't see anything from the edges."

Glancing up as a few couples made their way to the center of the room and began dancing, I raised an eyebrow at her, seeing her eye the dancers.

"You want to dance?"

"It's not my cup of tea, but we're wasting time. After this an auction is starting, and we'll lose our chance to lure Krale away without making a scene." She said, not looking too happy at the prospect of dancing. I noticed a man walk by but double back as he saw Quinn, his eyes appraisingly tracing her body as he made his way towards us.

Not in the mood for another chat with a random admirer of hers, I held out my arm for her to take. "In that case, would you care to dance, Kathleen?" I took her glass and put it, along with mine, on the empty, silver tray of a passing waiter.

She nodded to me with an apologetic smile directed at the man who was now only about ten feet away from us and allowed me to lead her to the dance floor, where she put her hands on my shoulders and I placed mine carefully on her waist, feeling the cool silk under my fingers as we slowly swayed in a circle, couples doing the same around us.

"See him?" I whispered, swallowing my nervousness and focusing on the task at hand. Quinn subtly shook her head.

"You know," She leaned forwards, her breath tickling my neck below my ear as she murmured, causing a small shiver to run through me. I found it suddenly hard to focus on the mission as her scent wrapped around me, spicy and intoxicating but with a hint of something floral. I didn't have a clue what it was, but it was delicious. "This reminds me of when we first met. So romantic."

Her eyes glinted with humor as I caught onto the sarcastic tone of her voice. For a second, I wished that she didn't have to wear the green colored contacts so I could get a better look at the silver of her eyes. Following the lead of the twirling people around us, I spun her, watching her dress swirl as she came back to rest her hands on my shoulders, sending warmth through me.

"Hmm, the warehouse was a bit more romantic. The broken windows sure were a nice touch ." I mused, making her smirk.

"Nine o'clock, to the left of the buffet table." She said suddenly as we turned in a slow circle, our steps matching perfectly as we danced.

For a second, I didn't know what she was talking about but was soon hit with the remembrance that we were on a mission, not here simply for fun. Nodding, I glanced to the spot of the room she had previously described and saw him. Howard Krale was holding a large glass of white wine in one of his hands as he talked animatedly to a woman in a deep purple dress, his gray, thinning hair gelled back stiffly and his rectangular, silver glasses glinting in the light.

All too soon, the song ended and all of partners bowed or curtsied to each other. Quinn and I did the same, our eyes meeting each other's but breaking apart after a moment.

"Care to have a chat with Mr. Krale?" I inquired as she once again took my arm, smiling vaguely at random people as we cut through the crowd,

"Sounds lovely."

We had almost reached the corner where Krale was standing when someone stopped in front of us and blocked our path, an annoying little smirk on his face. Poole.

"I was wondering if I could dance with your fiancé for one song." He asked, more like expected, as he held his arm out for her to take without stopping to hear her answer. "Kathleen?"

"Of course!" She smiled up at him, taking his arm. "George, why don't you go get us some snacks? I am a bit famished from all of this dancing." She said, motioning towards the area where our target was.

Nodding and giving a stiff smile, I made my way to the buffet table, slightly peeved. I glanced back to catch Quinn's eye, noticing her attempting to keep up her façade as her eyes glinted with her annoyance towards Poole.

I sipped another glass of champagne as I watched her and Poole dance, his hands sliding a bit too far down her waist and his cocky face a bit too close to her ear for my liking.

_ What the hell is going on with you, Rogers?_ I asked myself as I eyed the two. _You need to keep your mind on the mission and off of Quinn. She's the Phantom, a notorious vigilante who's killed people and who you know nothing about. But, _I admitted, _she is gorgeous. And she's a fighter; she's tough. And..._

I snapped out of my thoughts and kept an eye on Howard Krale as I also listened to Quinn's conversation with Poole. Downing my third glass of champagne as I watched the two, I realized something.

I may or may not have been attracted to the Phantom, but I wasn't sure yet. It was still just over a year since the ice, the awakening into the twenty first century, and Peggy. The funny thing was that when I was with Quinn, I forgot all about Peggy, forgot about everything else except her.

_ Ok, you like her._ I admitted to myself. I didn't know for sure how much I was attracted to her, though. It had only been a few days since I'd met her, but I already caught myself watching her from across the room and thinking about her when I wasn't with her. In just a few short days, the mysterious and elusive Phantom had completely captured my attention, had seared her presence into my mind since the moment I'd met her in the warehouse.

_ Oh boy, Rogers._ I thought. _You're in trouble._


	22. Chapter 21

[Quinn]

I smiled stiffly at Edward Poole as he led me to the dance floor, wanting nothing more in that moment than to turn down his offer and walk away, leaving him standing there like an idiot. He had possible information, though, that I needed. My nose slightly wrinkled at the strong, overpowering scent of his thick cologne, it being more noticeable to me since my senses were all heightened. The distinct smell of alcohol was on his breath as he put his hands on my waist and I placed mine on his shoulders. He leaned over, his hot and sticky breath hitting the side of my neck as we swayed.

"So, tell me about yourself, Miss O'Donnell."

_ Well, I'm a vigilante and I can have you on the floor dead in three seconds._

"Well, I graduated from a private college in Colorado, and I was going to move to Europe to become a doctor. But that was before George, of course, so now I think I'm going to stay in the states and write medical papers." The lie rolled smoothly off of my tongue.

"Wow, beautiful and smart! You're the whole package, Miss Kathleen." Poole praised me, lathering the complements thickly.

"Thank you, sir." I replied as I sent a glance over his shoulder to see that Krale was still engaged in his previous conversation. Steve was standing twenty or so feet away with a glass of champagne in his hand. Even though he had drunken more than two so far, he didn't seem the least bit buzzed or affected by the drinks. Must take a lot to get that guy drunk.

On the other hand, Poole was more than a bit tipsy judging by the blurred, distant look in his eyes and the slight inability for him to stay balanced.

"You know." He purred into my ear as his hands started to wander further down my body, one of his thumbs tracing the zipper on the side of my dress. "If your fiancé is staying for the auction that is _surely_ going to last all night, we might as well have some fun. I'm staying on the third floor."

My skin crawled as he pulled me closer, fingers digging into my waist. Fighting the urge to stab the man in front of me in the heart, I forced a sultry smirk onto my face, brushing my lips slightly against his ear as I murmured, "Then what are we waiting for?"

Grinning lecherously like he had just won a grand prize, Poole didn't even wait until the song was over to lead me across the ballroom, his grip on my waist never relenting.

"Quinn, what are you doing?" Steve's voice ordered through my earpiece. "This wasn't a part of the plan."

"Go after Krale, lead him out in the same direction I'm going." I muttered. "But wait a few minutes." As we passed a small bar, an idea popped into my mind. "And bring a bottle of the strongest stuff you can get ahold of."

"What was that, darling?" Poole asked as we were now almost passing through the heavy, mahogany doors that led into the rest of the hotel.

My fingers rubbed the silky edge of the collar of his tux as I whispered with a sexy smirk, "Just saying I can't wait to see you with this tie a bit loosened."

Grinning at me, we left the chatter of the ballroom behind and made out way down a plushy carpeted, ornate hallway decorated with large, looming oil paintings depicting solemn figures gazing into the distance. As we approached the elevator, I became a bit nervous. Elevators and I didn't mix, and once I got on there was little chance that I could get rid of Poole in time to meet Krale on the first floor.

Glancing behind me and making sure that no one was in the vicinity, I pushed Poole against a wall, watching his eyes light up in surprise.

"Do we have to wait until your hotel room? No one's around." I said, giving him a mischievous look. Spotting a linen closet, I slowly started pushing him towards it, noticing his lack of resistance as I opened the unlocked door with ease and pulled him inside the dark room.

"Miss O'Donnell, I never expected you to be so _persuasive_." He growled huskily as his hand blindly searched the walls for a light switch. "Would you like the light on or would you prefer it in the-_oof_!" He exclaimed as he slumped to the floor, his back hitting the light switch as he slid down the eggshell wall lined with fluffy, blue and gold embroidered towels. The single light bulb flickered to life, revealing his unconscious figure.

"I'd prefer you shut up." He was sprawled on the floor, knocked out cold from my punch, a bit of drool sliding down his chin.

Sitting him against the wall, I searched through his pockets, finding nothing of use. Even though I knew he wasn't cunning enough to be involved in the Inner Circle, I checked his left wrist and found no markings. It was possible that he was involved in the League, but interrogating him would be worthless since he wouldn't have any information I didn't already know.

The distant chatter of guests in my ear faded as I realized that Steve must have figured out a way to lure Krale away from the gala.

"Poole wanted to see me, you say?" A voice echoed down the hallway.

"Yes, sir. Something about wanting to speak to you regarding internal business affairs." Steve said.

"Take the second hallway to your left, then turn right. Stop at the fifth door down from the painting of the sheep." I instructed him, giving him directions to the linen closet. I waited idly in the small, cramped room as I heard their voices grow louder and their footsteps eventually came to a stop outside of my door.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Howard Krale huffed. "I don't see Poole anywhere."

Sending Krale stumbling back in shock, I flung open the door and yanked him inside, pulling Steve in with me too once I had shoved Krale against the far wall of towels, causing a washcloth to fall from its perch on a top shelf. A bottle of vodka was in Steve's hand, which he set against the floor as he took in the figure of Poole crumpled on the ground, slightly surprised.

"What is the meaning of this?" The councilman spluttered, his eyes bugging comically as his bewildered gaze landed on Poole. "I-is that Poole?"

"Don't worry, he's just unconscious, He got a bit too touchy." I remarked casually, staring the man down. He was dressed in a pinstriped, dark brown suit with an unappealing, forest green tie accenting the ugly ensemble. "Now."

The man cowered against the wall as I jerked his left arm forwards and turned it so his fleshy wrist was facing upwards, sliding his gold wrist watch up so I could get a better look. A small triangle made of three lines was branded into his skin, causing him to turn a ghostly shade of white when I revealed it.

"H-how did you...oh, that...it's-it's nothing." Krale stuttered, fear in his eyes.

"Oh, really? The Inner Circle is nothing?" I asked as I slowly paced in front of him, emerald silk brushing and swirling around my pale legs. The councilman gulped as I tsked and shook my head, stopping in front of him to face him once more as I unsheathed a dagger that was strapped to my upper thigh. "It isn't good to tell lies, Mr. Krale."

My fingers traced the edge of the dagger, my skin prickling slightly as my fingertips came into contact with the vibranium through the thin material of the glove.

Slamming him against the wall and causing some towels to topple from their places on the shelves, I pressed the edge of the blade against his neck.

"Let's try again. And this time, tell me the truth."

"About what?" His eyes were trained on the glinting blade.

"Whatever you know about the League and the Inner Circle."

"I don't know anything."

The edge of the knife pressed harder into his skin.

"Then I guess you're of no use to me."

"_No!_ Wait, wait, I know that Vermont wants to find someone." He exclaimed. "I don't know who."

_ Yeah, me._

"I already knew that. Unless you gave any more information, we're done here. I say we, but I mean you." I whispered, a razor sharp edge to my voice. That was all it took for the dam to break.

"Vermont! The demons, he's-he's creating some sort of army. I don't know for what, they don't tell me much. He has a machine, I don't know what he plans to do with it, but it's getting more powerful. The other night he mentioned something about town hall, b-but it was vague."

_ So, he has other plans for the Irritum Animam. _I noted.

The distant sound of a laundry cart could be heard clattering down the hallway along with the soft humming of a maid.

"Kathleen." Steve hissed in warning, quiet enough for only me to hear.

"What did he say?" I demanded.

"Something about how town hall is the center of our-our triumph or something. I can't remember exactly. Maybe our new beginning. Oh! He-he said something about the future of the human race, I can't remember, Vermont's insane! Please, don't kill me!" He half sobbed, shaking. "I don't know any more, I was forced to join the League because I was scared for my wife. Please!"

Moving my left hand, which wasn't clutching the knife, to a pouch strapped to the side of my right leg I pulled out a tiny, thin chip.

"Wh-what is that? Don't kill me! Please!" Krale cried.

"Thank you for your cooperation." I said, sticking the patch to the side of his neck as he attempted to jerk away. Almost instantly, his eyes rolled back in his head and he slid down the wall, dead weight.

"What did you do to him?" The Captain hissed, his ear close to the door as he listened as the maid stopped about five or so doors down, periodically pushing her cart of dirty laundry to the next room closest to them.

"Memory erasing chip; he won't remember a thing." I replied, pressing one below Poole's ear, too. Bending over after sheathing my dagger, I picked up the bottle of vodka and opened it. Steve watched me confusedly as I sloshed a little bit down the front of Poole's suit before emptying out half of the bottle in a gray, fabric laundry hamper full of unwashed towels and placed the bottle in Krale's hand.

"They're going to have one hell of a time trying to figure out what happened in this closet when they wake up." I commented, pleased with my work.

The wheels of the maid's cart creaked to a stop outside of the door next to the closet. We were next on her stop.

_ "What now?"_ Steve mouthed to me, not wanting to risk the possibility of the maid hearing us.

_ "How the hell am I supposed to know?" _I said back. I really didn't want to have to knock out an innocent hotel employee. If she was found, she would most likely be fired, and I'm not so cold hearted that I would want that to happen.

It seemed that Steve didn't want that to happen by the alarmed look he shot me as the dull thud of the door of the room next to us echoed through the hallway. Footsteps approached the linen closet door, a shadow creeping its way under.

"Damn it." I cursed quietly to myself, an idea popping into my mind. The Captain looked up at me as the door knob jiggled, the same look on his face as our eyes locked.

_ "I'm sorry about this."_ His deep blue eyes seemed to say as they pleaded with mine for forgiveness.

_ "Just do it before we have to knock out an innocent cleaning lady."_ Mine said back.

Large, warm hands were suddenly on my waist as I was quickly yet gently yanked into Steve's arms, my hands on his surprisingly rock hard chest to steady myself. _Much harder than I expected._

Our lips crashed together, causing me to involuntarily let out a small gasp. My brain barely registered the door to the closet creaking open, followed by the rapid clicking of the door shut and an annoyed string of curses as the maid pushed her cart all the way down the hall, muttering profanities. I doubted I could remember my name, let alone want to enough to care.

_ Warmth. _A warm, tingling sensation spread through my body, pooling in the bottom of my stomach as it filled with hyperactive butterflies, my hands fisting into the cool silk of his suit. In that moment, all that existed was Steve, the warmth radiating from his body, the burning of his hands on my waist and the sensation of his lips moving against mine as all of my senses heightened, becoming hyperaware to every movement he made.

Both of us breathless and breathing heavily, we finally broke apart as the hallway once again became silent. It didn't matter that we were in a hotel full of people or a closet with two unconscious men. It felt like we were isolated from everything, everyone, and all that existed was that moment as the world froze, our eyes meeting in similar looks of wonder and surprised awe.

It shocked me. It scared me. It thrilled me. And I knew that I couldn't let it happen again. For the first time in two years in an empty void of freezing, icy numbness, I was _warm, _heat radiating from my very core. _No._ I told myself. _You're dying; you don't have time for something like warmth. What would it matter if in the end, I was going to die anyway and I couldn't enjoy it?_

I stepped back from Captain America, giving myself only a second to collect my dazed thoughts before I pulled open the door and peeped out, even though I could already sense that no one was near.

"Coast is clear, let's go." I ordered, a hint of sharpness in my voice as I stalked out of the closet and towards a shortcut a few corridors over that would lead to the ballroom.

"I-right." Steve cleared his throat and seemed to shake his head a bit before he closed the door and followed close behind me. "We need to get to the car. It'll be outside, waiting for us.

I nodded, but my mind was far away from the mission, my thoughts circulating around a certain Captain.

_ Damn it Quinn, it was __**nothing.**__ You felt __**nothing**__. You will forget about it and you will __**never**__ let it happen again._ I growled to myself in my head. _The last thing you need is to be responsible for someone else to end up dead because of you. _

One hundred and twelve people are dead because of me, and those were just the ones I could count. I refuse to let Steve become number one hundred and thirteen on that list, because that number is reserved for none other than my father. He won't kill anyone else and get away with it, not on my watch.


End file.
